


One More Tomorrow

by AlexRuby



Series: Making a Legacy [3]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Content, Angst and Drama, Because I Ignored Half Of The Game Mechanics In the First One, Community Center Bundles, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fisherwoman Farmer, Junimos, Magical Realism, Memory Loss, Monsters, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Content, Shrine of Memory, The Adventure's Guild, The Elliott fandom still needs more love, Violence, Witch Curses, Year 2 Farmer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexRuby/pseuds/AlexRuby
Summary: As Morgan prepares for her second year on the farm, her life and everything she knows is turned upside down after she sees a mysterious, apple-shaped sprite disappear into the woods while she is tending the animals.  Suddenly Morgan is thrust into a hidden world in which she discovers that witches are not just things in fairy tales, wizards do in fact live in remote towers, and someone’s past can never stay truly hidden, only forgotten.Sequel to Where You Belong
Relationships: Elliott/Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Series: Making a Legacy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/961893
Comments: 52
Kudos: 77





	1. Remembrance Year (Rated T)

**Author's Note:**

> Stardew Valley is such an immersive game and I barely scratched the surface in Where You Belong. In this sequel, I’ve incorporated a lot more magical realism (especially in terms of late game/end game mechanics). This story still follows Morgan and Elliott as they grow together and come to terms with crucial truths about themselves.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy the story. As always, feedback is very much appreciated! I read each and every review I get and I do my best to reply to them as well!
> 
> Just a reminder, my story works on a modified seasonal cycle in which the months are broken into the four seasons. 
> 
> December - February (Winter)  
> March - May (Spring)  
> June - August (Summer)  
> September - November (Fall)
> 
> Heed the ratings at the beginning of each chapter. There will be more M-rated chapters in this story.

Chapter 1: Remembrance Year (Rated T)

March 1st, Year 2 (Spring)

I awoke before my alarm. The crisp morning air still held a chill from the winter, so I curled against Elliott’s back and nuzzled into his neck.

“G’morning.” He breathed out. His hand caught mine and pulled it against his chest. I slipped my other arm beneath his cool pillow and pressed my entire body against his back basking in his comfortable warmth.

“Good morning.” I murmured against his shoulder blades. His thick flannel pajama shirt tickled my lips.

Elliott’s breathing was steady and his touch fell slack against my fingers as he fell back asleep. I sat up on my elbow and looked down at him. His red hair spilled up and over the pillow revealing his slender neck and Adam’s apple. A faint red mark still sat beneath his ear from our last bout of love-making. I had a matching mark above my left breast.

He looked so handsome in his peacefulness. The lines along his forehead that were often furrowed in concentration, frustration, or worry were gone. In sleep, Elliott looked younger than his twenty-seven years, and I couldn’t imagine what my life would’ve been like had he not pulled me from the sea nearly a year ago and saved my life.

In fact, in one short year my life drastically changed. I arrived in Pelican Town with all of my belongings, a paltry sum of gold, and a yearning to leave my troubles behind me. I was embittered by love, burnt out from working in an unfulfilling job, and exhausted by the hustle and bustle of city life.

I still remembered how alien the cabin felt without Grandpa here. I recalled how intimidating everything felt as I did a lot of things for the first time: raising chickens and a cow, planting a garden, fishing for crabs. Sometimes I wish I could’ve gone back to past me and told myself that everything was going to be okay.

I glanced around the bedroom… _our_ bedroom. Elliott’s writing desk was tucked away in the corner. His bookshelf was right next to his side of the bed. A dresser sat on my side right beneath the window. A few fishing baits sat amid my perfume, makeup, and my hairbrush. Grandpa and Grandma’s wedding picture sat in a wooden dual frame along with picture of Elliott and I at the Saloon’s New Years celebration.

Like it or not, the place had changed. The farm was mine now and each new thing I added to the house or to the farm just marked one more step towards making the place into my own home. I wanted to build the farm back up to how it was when I was younger. I wanted to honor Grandpa’s legacy by showing him, the town, and myself that I had what it took to run a successful farm.

Of course, that fear of failure and the fear of disappointing everyone certainly motivated me to bust my ass. As I thought about this upcoming Spring and all of the plans I had for my farm, that same churning-in-the-gut, anxious feeling came back. Doubt crept back in to my mind.

No. This year would be a successful one. I was doing fine financially. The animals were healthy. Stella was expecting her calf within the week, and by the end of Spring, I could start selling and processing her milk again. The two goats I bought in late winter were producing milk which supplemented my income while I waited on Stella, and I already pre-ordered seeds from Pierre so I could begin planting as soon as the ground thawed.

Everything would be fine. I had nothing to worry about.

And then my phone rang.

I rolled away from Elliott and snatched it up from where it was charging. The noise had startled him awake and I murmured an apology and gave him a swift peck on the cheek before taking the phone into the kitchen. I knew that Elliott would be back to sleep within a few seconds. That man could probably sleep through a meteor strike.

The cold wood floor bit at my bare feet as I crossed into the living room, so I curled up on the couch beneath my heavy quilt and answered the phone.

“Hello?!” My voice sounded harsher than I had intended. But what did they expect? It was 6:30 in the morning.

“Hi! Uh…is—is this Morgan Raymond?” A man’s voice asked. His voice sounded older, weathered even, like he was talking with a throat full of gravel or suffered from mild laryngitis.

“Yes this is. Who may I ask is calling?”

The caller paused for a long moment and I thought that we’d been disconnected.

“Hello?—“

“— Yes, yes I’m here.” He replied quickly. “My name is Henry. _Yoba_. What time is it there? Is this a bad time? Do you have a minute to talk?”

He spoke with a panicked yearning. His tone sounded like he had something incredibly important to say but was running out of time to do so.

“It’s 6:30 here. So yeah, it’s kind of early.” I answered. “What’s this about?”

The man cleared his throat. “Oh yes…damn it. Sorry! It’s the time difference. It’s mid-afternoon here and I always misjudge the time zone that you’re in. Look…I know I should’ve made this call a year ago, but I just couldn’t —“ He sighed heavily, “I just can’t let this go on any longer Morgan.”

The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. He said my name as though he knew me.

“Who are you?” I asked bluntly.

He audibly swallowed. “I’m your father.”

I know he said something but I didn’t understand how those three words could go together and mean anything.

“I’m sorry?” I said dumbly. “What did you say?”

“I’m your father.” He repeated again and this time he choked a little in his rush to get the words out. “Wait! Don’t hang up! I know this is — I know I’m the last person you want to hear from and you might not believe me but — Damn it! I can prove it, see? Your mother is Diane Raymond. You were born on September 27th in Children’s Sacred Heart Hospital in Hay Creek. She was 16 years old when she had you. Your grandfather was the first person to hold you after the doctors cleaned you up. Your grandmother cried because you were the most beautiful thing she ever saw. And…”

I heard someone sob and then I realized it was me. I got off the couch, slipped my bare feet into my boots, and stepped out onto the front porch and into the chilly Spring morning. I felt a torrent of emotions bubbling in my guts and I needed to get out of the cabin before I woke Elliott up.

As soon as I closed the front door, the dam within me broke open.

“This is some joke, right!?” I snarled. “This has got to be a practical joke.”

“It’s not a joke!” He urged. “I’m telling you the truth.”

“Oh yeah?” I countered. Irate rage exploded from some dark place deep inside of me. "Why the in the hell are you calling me?! Especially now! What — Just — How _dare_ you.” I half-sobbed and half-growled. “ _You_ left us. _You_ left me. Mom refused to speak about you and Grandpa…he…”

He inhaled sharply and his voice sounded perceptibly harder. “You think I left you? That I left your mom? Is _that_ what you think happened?! Is that what Adolph told you? He told you that I left you? That I _wanted_ to leave you?!”

“He didn’t tell me anything.” I snapped. “And don’t you dare talk about my Grandpa like you knew him. No matter how many times I begged and pleaded him for information about you, he just told me that you had left, and that was all he knew.”

I heard a strangled choking sound on the other end of the phone. Henry’s voice became tighter and held genuine urgency. “Yoba, Morgan. None of that is true! _Damn it_ — I know this doesn’t make any sense but I can explain everything. I just need to know what you know about me. Do you remember anything? Anything about what happened?”

“What the hell are you talking about?! What do you mean ‘about what happened’? You left us! And of course I don’t remember it! I was a baby. But I sure as hell remember all of the Dads and Donuts days at school where my dad stand-in was a high school gridball player. I remember all of the Father’s Days that I never celebrated. I remember …” My throat swelled and croaked out. “You know what? Go fuck yourself! Don’t ever fucking call me again.”

“Wai—!”

I cut him off with a single button press and immediately powered my phone down. I sank down onto the wooden steps and clutched my knees. I wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. So I forced myself to take deep breaths to calm down.

I tried to focus on anything else in the world besides that phone call, and that's when I noticed a movement in the trees. I glanced at the rugged forest that bordered my farm. I thought I saw an older man watching me from a distance, but when I focused my eyes and actually looked, all I saw were a few cardinals and robins picking through the dirty snow for worms and insects.

I watched the sun rise and cast a golden glow along the frost rutted dirt road that led to town. My cheeks were numb from the cold but I didn’t want to go inside. Elliott would know that something was wrong, and I didn’t want him to worry. He was due to leave in a few days for the writing seminar that I had gifted him for Winter’s Day and I knew he wouldn’t go if he thought I was in pain.

I kept sneaking glances at my phone willing it to ring despite the fact that I had turned it off. Yoba! Why was I doing this to myself? If this man really was my father then what right did he have to barge in on my life? And why now of all things?

The more I seethed, the uncomfortable I became with all of these unanswered questions.

“Dammit!”

I flipped my phone open, turned it on, and waited for it to power up to the home screen. The ancient phone took nearly a full minute to boot up. I expected a handful of notifications to chime — maybe a missed call or two, a voicemail, or even a text message. Instead, I got nothing.

I checked my incoming call list and saw the strange number. I fixated on it, committed it to memory, and shut my phone. I went back inside and found an old receipt on the kitchen table and copied the number onto the back of it.

Before I could stop myself, my fingers had flipped open my phone once again and punched in the number. I hesitated for just a moment before hitting the green SEND button and I held the phone to my ear.

I didn’t want it to ring. I wanted anything else to happen. _Go to voicemail. Just go to voicemail._ I prayed.

Instead an operator’s cool, robotic voice said “The number you have dialed is out of service. Please check the number and try again.”

I snapped the phone closed and sighed.

“Yoba dammit.” I muttered.

“Are you okay, love?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard Elliott’s voice from behind me. I stuffed the phone in my pocket and turned to face him.

His hair was still matted and wild from sleep, but he looked surprisingly alert and awake for someone who had gone to bed so late.

“What?!” I said sounding unforgivably guilty. “Oh…sorry, hon. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

His eyes searched mine for an answer. I was a terrible liar, and we both knew it.

“Who was on the phone?” His voice wasn’t tinged with jealousy or suspicion, but I still felt myself tense in preparation for a fight as my own pain and rage looked for someone to lash out against.

Woah there…calm down. No. Elliott had a right to know. If my father was trying to worm his way back into my life, then Elliott needed to know. He could help me, comfort me.

I sighed, “Uh…apparently…it was my father.”

His eyebrows rose in astonishment. “Really?! A-Are you okay? What did he say to you?”

I tried to downplay the tumultuous storm in my chest with a half-hearted shrug. “He didn’t say all that much. I don’t even know why he would call, or how he got my number.”

“Maybe your Mom gave it to him?” Elliott offered.

“No. Mom never spoke about him. Neither she nor Grandpa ever talked about my father. Whenever I asked them for more information, they’d just change the subject and eventually I got tired of digging for information.”

“Do you know what he wanted?”

I shook my head. But then something clicked in my head. The way he spoke made me first assume that he was either drunk or on some sort of illegal substance, but maybe he was trying to tell me something important.

“You’re going to think this is crazy, but I have this gut feeling that he was trying to tell me something. I read in the _Zuzu Gazette_ that a woman saved herself from a domestic violence situation by calling the Emergency Hotline and pretending she was ordering pizza. He sounded a little like that; he seemed like he was choking on his words, or like he was sidestepping around something that he couldn’t reveal to me.”

“Did he tell you his name?”

“Henry.” I replied. “He said his name was Henry.”

Elliott went over to his writing desk and withdrew a sheet of paper. Despite writing quickly, his penmanship was still elegant and fantastic.

“You said your Mom was 16 when you were born. How old was he?”

“Like 17 or 18 I think. He was a year ahead of her in school.”

Elliott nodded and wrote some more.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Where did your Mom go to school?”

“Here.” I replied. “The place has been shut down for ages though. It was a school and then it was a Community Center when I was younger. It’s that old abandoned building just North of town. Why? What are you doing?”

Elliott’s eyes glimmered and he looked like a detective who had just cracked the case. “There’s a good chance that records exist of your father. Gunther might have it stored away in his library, or Mayor Lewis might know. All we’d need to find would be a school yearbook or old paperwork. Maybe you could find out Henry’s last name and then we could look him up online.”

The light dimmed in Elliott’s eyes when he saw my clear apprehension and his entire being seemed to deflate a little.

“Ah…gosh. I’m sorry, love. I know this isn’t some game. I don’t mean to sound so cavalier about something that’s caused you such pain.”

“It’s okay.” I replied and I walked towards him. My fingers entwined with his free hand and I kissed his knuckles. “I’ll admit that I’m curious as well, but I’m also confused and concerned. Why now? He’s been out of my life for 26 years. Hell. I don’t even know what he looks like!”

Then I added half-jokingly, “What if he’s a serial killer?” But then my real fear broke though. “What if he has a family, and Mom and I were just his first draft that he tossed in the garbage?”

Elliott pulled me into him and his warm lips branded my forehead. As he was a head taller than me, he set his chin on my head and murmured,“You are nobody’s first draft, Morgan.”

I chuckled as thin tears spilled down my cheeks and dried on his flannel pajama top.

“Thanks.” I croaked. “I should probably get started on my morning chores before Stella has a cow about me not feeding her.”

Elliott tilted my chin up and looked at me with chagrin. “Was that a pun?”

I grinned, “You always say puns are the highest form of humor.”

He sighed, shook his head, and pulled me back into him. “I think I fall in love with you more each day, my dear.”

His lips were soft against mine and he tasted like cinnamon toothpaste.

The rest of the morning went as well as could be expected. The warming temperatures meant the worn dirt path that led to my newly expanded barn was treacherous, and it also meant the animals needed more attention as mud, puddles, and snow melt seemed to reawaken Stella’s impish spirit.

“Would you stop!” I grouched as the bovine pawed the ground with her hoof which sent more globs of mud and snow down my knee-high muck boots.

The two goats, Nina and Nelle, brayed in response and pranced around the paddock which encouraged the much larger, the much less sure-footed, and the very much pregnant Stella to race after them thus splashing me even more with mud.

I huffed and blew my bangs out of my eyes as I scooped up manure and dumped it into a wheelbarrow to be added to my compost pile. As I worked, I had a strange feeling that someone was watching me again. I looked around and yet I saw nobody. I was going to put it out of mind until Stella abruptly stopped running and looked off towards the pathway that led to the mountain lake.

A shiver slid down my spine. I didn’t think about what I was doing before I climbed up and over the wooden fence landed silently on the soft ground. I grabbed my grandfather’s slingshot that I kept on top of a fence post and handful of pebbles that I had picked out of the field last Spring then strode towards the path.

“Hello?” I called out.

Nobody answered but I still felt the heat of someone’s gaze. I knew someone was there.

“Come out! I know you’re hiding somewhere.” I yelled.

I slowly counted to thirty in my head but nobody showed up. The wind combed through the budding trees and a couple of early-season songbirds took flight. But just as I was about to turn away, I saw something move in the tree line.

I took after it. The thing was like an animal but it looked wrong. Or…well…it looked like a spider was carrying a giant green apple. The thing’s spindly, black legs carried it through the thick icy snow and leafy debris like it was walking across water. I had never seen an animal like it before. I wasn’t a zoologist, but I was pretty damn sure the creature I saw wasn’t a real animal.

Despite its rotund body, the creature blurred into the trees and let out a high pitched chirping sound before it completely disappeared. It was as though it became part of the forest. I knew that some animals could change the color or pattern of their skin to camouflage into the scenery, but this thing just simply vanished into thin air.

“What the…”

“Morgan?” Elliott called from the cabin.

For the second time that morning, Elliott’s voice made me jump.

“C-coming!” I called out. Yoba, maybe I needed to lay off the caffeine. I was starting to get a bit twitchy.

I stomped through the half-melting ice and mud and made my way back towards the cabin. Elliott was wearing his thick red wool jacket and carried his brown leather messenger bag. He was clearly on his way to Gunther’s to write, but when he saw me he frowned.

“Are you alright, love? You look frightened…or alarmed…or…” His voice trailed off as he failed to find the right adjective to describe my expression.

“I …” I swallowed, shook my head, and then pointed back towards the trees where I had been. “Elliott I think I saw something out there. Stella got spooked when I was cleaning out the pen, and at first I thought it might be a bear out of early hibernation, but then I saw it and …”

My own voice trailed off. I had the same sort of feeling in my gut that I had last winter. Before the Feast of the Winter Star, I went to Grandpa’s grave to leave an offering and spend some time in remembrance and then I felt him. I felt his presence. And when I turned around to look at the alter, a note was there with his words of encouragement and advice — words reserved just for me. I hadn’t told anyone about what had happened in the forest glen. I was half afraid they wouldn’t believe me, but another half wanted to keep the memory close to my heart and private. But this…this thing appeared and disappeared in the same, mysterious fashion.

“…And?” He gently urged.

“Um…and it disappeared.” I finished lamely and my face flushed in embarrassment. “Never mind. Maybe I’m just being silly. It was probably nothing — a trick of the light or something.”

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yeah.” I replied. And then I changed the subject, if only to save myself the embarrassment of being frightened by ghosts. “Do you have a lot of writing ahead of you today?”

He grimaced, “No. The writing is done, at least for now, but I do have about twenty pages of my draft that I need to edit before I would even consider letting someone else look at it.”

“I’m sure the other writers at the seminar will love it.” I replied. “And if they don’t, then you have valuable feedback for another revision.”

He sighed and looked wistfully off into the horizon. “Thanks. I better get going though. Gunther is liable to close the library if nobody shows up today. Attendance has been sparse ever since Joja Mart built that new arcade onto their store.”

I scowled at the mention of Joja’s latest scheme to tempt customers away from Pierre and Gus. Most of Pelican Town’s younger crowd used that spot as the new hangout instead of Gus’s which took business away from his bar and from Gunther’s library. And to top it all off, Morris had a store policy that the arcade was for patrons only so people had to buy something in addition to pumping their gold into the latest arcade edition of _Journey of the Prairie King_.

“Well maybe swing by Gus’s later and pay him a visit. I should be there around five or so. We can have dinner there and keep him company.”

“That sounds like a lovely plan. It’s a date.”

“Great!” I beamed.

“And what do you have planned today?” Elliott asked.

“Fishing is open once again in all freshwater rivers and lakes so I’ll be up by Robin’s place fishing in the mountain lake. It’s felt like ages since I’ve had fresh fish.”

Elliott stepped off the stoop and walked towards me. His knuckles affectionately brushed my cheek as he tucked a small strand of hair behind my ear.

“Just be safe, okay? It’s too cold to go for a swim.”

I rolled my eyes, “I’ll be fine.”

I stood up onto my tip toes and kissed Elliott’s cheek. As much as I loathe to admit it, the subtle scent of his cologne made me want to swoon like a movie starlet.

His arm snuck around my back and he turned his head so he caught my lips with his. I smiled through his kiss and rested my forehead against his.

“See you at five.” He murmured.

I nodded and broke from his embrace. “I love you. Now go! And tell Gunther I say hello.”

* * *

Fishing at the mountain lake was a whole different beast compared to fishing at the ocean. Freshwater fishing, for one, had a lot more of the “hurry up and wait” mentality. Panfish wouldn’t spawn for another month, but walleye and northern pike were often congregating around sources of fresh moving water while they spawned. Unfortunately, the cold weather and the even colder water temperatures made the bite sluggish

I exhaled as I casted my bait. My breath was slightly visible despite it being mid-morning. I was using my old neon orange crank bait and the thing darted through the water like a dream. I made an angle change as the bait came towards me and pulled it away in a different direction.

“C’mon.” I muttered. “Hit it.”

Nothing happened.

I casted for a half hour or more slowly working my way along the outer edge of the lake. When I got to the wooden plank that acted as a rudimentary bridge to the small island in the middle, I thought I felt a tap but when I set my hook, the bait came flying — hooks and all — right at my head!

I dodged and the orange missile streaked past me. Of course, with the thing flying cattywampus in the air, I now had a rat’s nest of tangled line to content with before I could fish again. I sighed, sat on a large bolder near the shoreline, and pulled out my pocket knife.

I snuck my knife through the tangles so I could cut the bait free. I caught my bait in one hand and pocketed both the knife and the snarled fishing line. I tied the bait back on with a quick fisherman’s knot, and was back at it in under five minutes.

I threw out a long cast and then I brought in my crank bait near some reeds that would grow cattails come Fall.

Without warning, It was like someone had dropped dynamite behind my bait. Something exploded out of the water just as I set the hook out of instinct. I immediately felt the weight on my line and my pole arched into a near semi-circle.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” I squealed.

The fish was massive. Far bigger than anything I had ever caught and far bigger than the five pound largemouth bass that Grandpa had hanging in the cabin when I was a kid. The beast’s green-bronze back was as thick as my entire hand and it’s flared gills led to a massive, alligator-sized head.

I could beach it…except there was no beach. The entire lake was surrounded by tall grass, reeds, and thorny bramble. I didn’t bring a net or a gaff with me so I had to either grab the fish by hand (which could prove dangerous if my fingers caught its teeth or its gill rakes) or I’d have to drag the fish through the debris and onto shore and risk my line being cut by rough foliage.

Line peeled from my spool as the fish ran out towards the middle of the lake. I kept the line tight and tried to move with the fish. I felt it darting to and fro. Each thrash of its head made the rod tip tremble.

Try as I might, the fish was just too strong and I could do nothing except watch as the line on my spool grew sparse. There was a tiny square knot around the spool itself keeping the line to the rod but a feisty guppy could break that. No. Once the line ran out, the fish and my precious bait would be gone forever.

Ziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip. The fish made another run and four more yards of line stripped off the reel. I pressed my thumb on the open-faced spool and ginelrgly pulled the fish towards me hoping I could reclaim some of my lost line, but it was no use. My rod bowed, the fish ran again, and I heard a pitiful 'ting' as the line broke from my rod and flew threw the guides.

My heart sank and I collapsed to my knees in defeat. The water in the lake was stained dark from the recent snowmelt so I had no idea how big the fish actually was.

“That’s a honey of a fish you had on just now.” A voice drawled from the tree line.  
  
I jumped and looked around wildly for the source of the voice. My blood ran cold and I stood to my feet ready for a fight.

A grey-haired man stepped out into the sunlight holding up his hands in surrender. A black eye patch covered his left eye while a silver-pink scar ran across his right. He wore an old cape over his right shoulder and had a sword belted at his left hip. Along with the green tunic and the slate grey breeches, he was the oddest looking man I had ever seen.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Old Adolph would often come here to fish in the Spring. It’s been many years since anyone’s been up this way. The fish are getting complacent.”

I didn’t respond. My gut was shouting at me that something was amiss. I had a good sense about people and while this stranger didn’t make me feel afraid or threatened, I still felt the need to be wary.

He sighed and looked disappointed. “You don’t know me.”

I shook my head. “No...but why do I feel like I’ve met you before?”

The man nodded as though I had just confirmed something. “Even after all these years, that curse still has a hold of you. I thought it would’ve broken by now.”

“What are you talking about? What curse?”

The man shook his head and gestured for me to be quiet. “We shouldn’t talk out here. My cabin is on the other side of the lake. I think it’s time you learned the truth. Come with me.”

I took a step back and scoffed. “I’m not coming with you. You’re just some random dude who stepped out of the forest. I don’t know who you are. I don’t even know your name!”

He nodded. “Fair enough. My name is Marlon. I run the Adventure’s Guild. Adolph and I served in the same division in the War. Even though you don’t remember it, I watched you grow up. Your Mom and your Dad were looking at building a house in these hills until …” he sighed, “until everything changed.”

“That’s impossible.” I replied but my voice lacked conviction. Something about his story rang true. “My father left me when I was a baby. I don’t even remember what he looked like.”

As soon as I said those words, I felt light-headed and Marlon’s warm, calloused hands held my biceps and gently guided me to a boulder.

“It’s best if you sit down. This process can be rather traumatic.”

“W-what process?” I croaked. My head throbbed. I felt worse than when I came down with meningitis last Fall. It felt like someone was stabbing me right in the back of my brain.

My body felt feverish and my stomach twisted in on itself. Marlon took the fishing pole from my hand and I just let him do it. Confusion, anger, and paralyzing fear gripped me. My gut instinct was now telling me that something was definitely wrong.

Marlon came back to my side and knelt down. One of his legs was a metal prosthetic. He had lost it in the War when he saved my Grandpa’s life. But…how did I know that?

“I know it’s hard Morgan, but you need to lean into what your instincts are telling you. Try and remember when you last met me. What were we doing?”

I tried to remember. The words were at the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t articulate them into specific details. We were … Yoba what were we doing? I clenched my right hand and desperately missed my fishing pole. I needed to hold onto something. A tool? No. A weapon? But what? Besides Grandpa’s slingshot I had never used an actual weapon.

Marlon’s left hand rested on his sword hilt as he said something in a soft, encouraging voice. I didn’t hear what he said but I felt my own right hand reach across my stomach to grab at something that wasn’t there. Why wasn’t my sword there?

I blinked at him and looked at my hand grasping at the empty air.

“My sword?” I muttered helplessly.

Then a tidal wave of pain, sensation, memories, and experiences crashed against me

I heard someone screaming from far away. The voice sounded anguished and enraged. That was until I realized that the voice was my own. Then I fell forward into the terrifying black abyss.

* * *

I awoke on a scuffed wooden floor with a folded up blanket beneath my head and a cool washcloth across my forehead.

“Morgan?” The man’s voice asked. “Can you hear me?”

That voice belonged to Marlon. Not only did I know that but I also knew exactly who Marlon was. I knew that he and my Grandpa had been boyhood friends who were more like brothers. Then I heard myself say in an uncertain, almost childish voice “Uncle Marlon?”

I heard a heavy, relieved sigh next to me. “Yeah kid.” He replied. “Yeah it’s me.”

“Why? What? How?”

His calloused, warm hand covered my entire forehead. “Shh. Just take a moment to rest. Your brain’s just gone through some serious mental trauma. Just let the memories come back on their own. Don’t think too hard.”

“Don’t think too hard?” I echoed incredulously. “I feel like my head’s been run over by a bus.”

“Let’s start with something you know. What’s your grandfather’s name?”

“Adolph Raymond.”

Marlon nodded his head. “What’s his name?” He gestured at a short, fat man who was now watching us with intent, beady eyes.

“G-Gil?” The name just popped into my head and I had no rhyme or reason for knowing it. “W-what’s going on? What’s wrong with me? What’s happening to me?”

Marlon shifted uncomfortably. “Nothin’s wrong with you. Not anymore at least. The curse has finally broken.”

I would’ve laughed had he not looked so stone-faced and serious.

“There’s no such thing as curses.” I replied hollowly. I tried to sit up but the room spun like an amusement park ride, so I stopped.

“Told ya she wouldn’t remember Marlon. She was only a young girl.” Gil’s reedy, dry voice interjected.

Marlon sighed. “Think back to your earliest memory, girl. Think hard now. What’s the very first thing you remember?”

I closed my eyes and tried to recall memories from my early childhood. There were the common ones like fishing with Grandpa with my pink and purple children’s fishing pole and the way his pipe tobacco smelled when he kissed me goodnight. I remember the time he was furious with me because I wandered too far into the Cindersnap Forest. I didn’t understand why he was so afraid and upset, but I remember that we never really went towards the west side of the forest; we only stuck to the south end near the cliffs or the east side near the cabin where Leah now lives.

“I don’t know.” I replied weakly. “Maybe that Grandpa was angry with me? I got lost in the forest as a child. I remember being really scared. I also remember how huge and imposing the trees felt.”

Marlon rose from the ground and went to a worn-looking wooden chest. He opened it and pulled out a small, hand-sewn grey cottontail rabbit doll. The eyes were black buttons and the cotton tail looked like it was made from a real tuft of cotton.

“Does this look familiar to you?”

Again, it felt like a switch had been flipped in my brain. Of course the rabbit was familiar. It use to be mine.

“That’s Peter the Rabbit! My grandma made him for me while she was in the hospital getting chemo. Grandpa kept it and gave it to me on my fifth birthday. But why do I know that? How did I forget it?”  
  
Marlon helped me to my feet, passed me a glass of water, and guided me over to the other rocking chair that was near the fire. He closed the wooden chest and leaned against it.  
  
“Morgan, there are things…beings… in this world that people have yet to understand. The mines in these mountains are full of strange creatures. The deeper you go in the mines and the darker the magic gets. Rumors even tell of a cave deep in the Calico Desert that hold riches beyond your wildest understanding that are guarded by terrible, terrible creatures. Most people live their entire lives and never see the things that I’m talking about. But your Grandpa and your father weren’t them.”

I shook my head. “I don’t understand. What do you mean by monsters? Monsters don’t exist.”

Marlon’s sterling blue eyes bore into my soul. “Monsters do exist Morgan. Creatures that come from the elemental planes. Malevolent creatures. Terrible beasts. Your Grandfather, your father, and I wanted to protect you from them. One of the most petty and human of those creatures had her sights set on you. So when you were a young child they sought help from a powerful wizard. But someone else got wind of their plans to protect you from her evil and she … intervened.”

He spat that last word with such venom that it was almost palatable. However, Gil literally spit into the fire and made an elaborate hand gesture that the devout usually did to invoke Yoba’s protection.

“That’s why you didn’t remember anything up until now.” Marlon replied. “The Witch in the swamp performed a dark ritual on you. She took all of your memories. She made you forget your father and grandfather and anyone connected to them. Her magic couldn’t make you forget your mother as the bond between mother and child is much too powerful for that.”

“But I didn’t forget my grandfather.” I challenged.

“The witch’s spell only works on past memories. It doesn’t prevent new memories from forming. Adolph begged the Wizard to undo the curse but he could only limit its duration. The Witch who cursed you meant for it to last a lifetime; the Wizard cut it down to a couple of decades, give or take.”

More pieces clicked together in my head. “Were you watching me from the trees when I was on my porch this morning?”

Marlon grimaced, “I’m sorry about that. It’s my nature to observe from afar. I knew Henry was planning on calling you today and I was concerned that his conversation might spark this whole process. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself during the ordeal.”

The water sat in my stomach like a rock so I put the glass down on the floor next to the rocking chair. Despite the sweltering fire, I still felt chilled to the bone.

“Does my mom know about all of this? She must, right? I mean…you said they were thinking about building a house in these hills. So my then my father didn’t actually leave me.”

Marlon pulled out a pipe and packed the top full of tobacco. I knew by smell that it was the same brand my Grandfather used and my heart ached at the memory. The memory that was my own natural memory, not one that had been apparently cursed from my mind.

“I can’t speak for what happened between your parents.” Marlon said, “but please believe me when I tell you that your mother and father love you. Henry wishes he could’ve been around more, but your Mom and Grandpa thought it was best to limit your contact with the people you knew before the incident.”

There was palatable sorrow in his voice.

“And that includes you.” I noted.

“Aye.” He murmured. “Although you turned out just fine without my help.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Questions sprouted like weeds in my mind. Each one that Marlon answered would create ten more to pop up. And then there were the memories, over twenty years of memories that just floated through my thoughts.

“I — I can’t do this right now.” I murmured. Panic rose in my chest and I got to my feet. Marlon got to his and held out his hands like he was trying to tame a skittish horse.

“Woah. You can’t leave yet.” He said. “You’re going to experience some intense moments as your brain tries to reconcile the memories you’ve just regained.”

I shook my head, “Then I’ll try to deal with that as they come. But I —“ I checked my cell phone and saw that it was 6:15pm. Elliott had called three times but my phone had been on silent. “Oh Yoba, I’m so fucking late!”

I reached for my jacket. Elliott was probably worried. Maybe he was out there looking for me. Oh Yoba, I hope he wouldn’t be too upset. Dammit…

“Wait Morgan! You can’t leave just yet!” Marlon protested. “You should really stay here so we can help you work through everything.”

I hopped on one foot to get my boot on. “I’m fine.” I replied. “I’ll figure it out and if there’s any problems, I’ll come and see you.”

“But —“

I threw the door open and the cold Spring air blew across my face. I hadn’t realized how hot it was in the cabin until now.

“Morgan, please…” Marlon said. “At least come back tomorrow.”

I shrugged and avoided his eye contact. “Maybe. I’ll see if I can make the time.”

I slung on my backpack and turned on my headlamp. I felt Marlon’s gaze on the back of my neck. I also knew that Marlon was a salt-of-the-earth kind of man. He rarely tolerated flakiness or defiance.

I turned to him and extended my hand, “Thank you Marlon. I’ll stop by tomorrow. I promise. But right now, I have a man waiting for me who probably thinks I’ve drowned in the mountain lake, and I need to get back to him.”

Marlon accepted my hand and shook it. His skin was warm and dry, yet the callouses and scars on his palm reminded me that he was still a capable and strong man despite his advanced years.

“See you tomorrow then.” He said firmly.

He let go of my hand and firmly closed the door behind me. Crows took flight from a nearby giant oak tree and a cold wind blew my ponytail into my face.

I jogged down the path and past Robin’s house. By the time I passed the old Community Center, I was running full speed towards the lazy wisps of chimney smoke and the smell of Gus’s delicious cooking.

I slowed to a fast walk once I passed Pierre’s if only to not look conspicuous to anyone who might be out for an evening stroll. But when I turned the corner, I saw Elliott walking up the path that led back to the farm. He was carrying a brown paper bag and was checking his phone.

“Elliott!” I called out.

He spun on his heels and sighed in relief. “Thank Yoba! Where have you been? I was starting to get worried.”

Words failed me so I rushed towards him and hugged him with such force that we both nearly toppled over.

“My dear, you’re trembling. Are you okay? Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

My throat was too tight for me to speak so I buried my face in Elliott’s chest and held him tighter.

“I am so so sorry.” I murmured.

He cupped my face with both hands and made me look at him. His eyes glimmered beneath the dim streetlights and his voice was rough. “Love, are you hurt?”

I shook my head. “No I’m fine. I promise. But…something’s happened and I don’t know how to explain it.”

I took his hands and held them in mine. The sides of his index fingers were stained with ink and he had pulled his hair back into a low ponytail.

He brought my hands to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “I’ll believe whatever you tell me. I was just worried that something had happened to you — like you had another unfortunate spill while fishing or a wild animal had attacked you or —“

I silenced him with a firm kiss. He tasted like ale and I wished that I could get drunk on that taste alone. He deepened the kiss and I felt his anxiety melt away with each needy touch and gentle caress.

His hands slid down my arms and slipped beneath my open jacket. My breath caught in my throat as his hands skimmed down either side of my body. He was judiciously avoiding the more fun parts and I knew he was touching me to reassure himself that I was indeed unharmed.

He let out a low sigh of relief when we both came up for air. “Would you like to eat at the Saloon or eat at home? I had Gus make our orders to-go. I also got us some wine to celebrate the one year anniversary of your arrival to Pelican Town, but I’m sure Gus wouldn’t mind if we went back inside to eat.”

Gus would probably have questions for me if we went back inside. As a bartender, he was unbelievably astute and I didn’t really want to unpack everything that was on my mind with an audience.

“Elliott, I have some things I need to tell you and I don’t really want an audience for it.”

His expression dramatically changed and I realized how my words came across.

“No! No no no! I didn’t say that right. I’m not breaking up with you! Yoba —I just — With my Dad’s call this morning, and the creature I saw in the forest, and now this — I just — I need to be alone with you. Alright?”

He chuckled and pulled me into a tight embrace. I nuzzled into his neck and laughed as well. “I think that wine is calling both of our names.”

“Indeed.” He agreed. “C’mon. Let’s go home. I want to hear every detail about your day.”

Elliott grabbed the brown paper bag off the clinic’s concrete stoop and took my hand into his. We walked through the slush and mud in silence. My headlamp light bounced with every step and there was a prickling in the back of my neck; it was the same feeling from this morning — I felt that someone was watching me.

My hand tightened on Elliott’s and he squeezed it back. That one touch reassured me that everything was going to be okay. With Elliott at my side, I could handle anything.

Or…at least that’s what I hoped.


	2. The Sins of the Mother (Rated T+)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lore dump ahead! Hopefully this story can suitably distract you from the craziness in the world. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, review, and leave kudos. This story is a significant departure in tone from the first one and I’m trying my damndest to not let the plot fly away with me. And maybe it’s because I’m feeling angst myself, but there’s some pretty heavy angst ahead with some fluffy comfort at the end.

Chapter 2: The Sins of the Mother (Rated T+)

March 1st, 8:45pm (Spring)

The bare trees towered over us blocking out the moon and the stars as we walked down the slushy and muddy road that led back home. The wind bit at my face and the smell of the damp, cold air reminded me of early mornings waiting for the bus with Grandpa.

Hay Creek had the closest primary school but it was a half-hour bus ride there. Grandpa woke me up at 6:00 every morning and waited for the bus with me. He’d wrap me in his jacket on particularly cold mornings, and I recalled how my bleary-eyed grogginess faded to alerted excitement when the bus showed up. I was the first student on the bus each day and the last one to get off. Sure enough, Grandpa would be waiting for me at 5:00 in the evening with a big smile on his face.

“Morgan?” Elliott murmured. “You’re crying.”

“What? O-oh.” I wiped at my face and I shivered. “Sorry. I — uh — I got lost in my thoughts for a moment. Let’s take a break real quick.”

Elliott squeezed my hand and guided me to the iron bus stop bench. We both sat down and I leaned into him feeling mentally drained.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asked gently.

I inhaled. I tried to say something but the words never materialized. How could they? What could I say? _Oh, I’m sorry that I was late. I passed out at the mountain lake after a 20 year old curse broke and years of repressed and forgotten memories came flooding back?_

“You won’t believe me.” I said. “Hell, I barely believe it myself.”

“My dear, I write fiction for a living. I know it’s surprising, but I’m quite good at suspending my disbelief.”

His gentle rebuking sarcasm pulled a chuckle from my chest and I bumped him with my shoulder. “Shut up. I’m being serious.”

He bumped me back, “As am I.”

I glowered up at him and sighed. I rubbed my forehead with my fingertips. Ever since I had left Marlon’s place, there had been a low-key and dull aching pain right behind my eyes.

I let out another exasperated sigh. “Elliott, do you believe in curses?”

He cocked his head thoughtfully, “Curses as in fairy tales? Like curses that put beautiful princesses to sleep and they can only be woken up by true love’s kiss? Or do you mean a dark curse? Like a death curse?”

A shiver jolted down my spine when he said ‘death curse.’ I hugged myself and closed my eyes. There was a faint buzzing in my ears and I tried to push through it.

“Uh…I don’t really know which curse we’re talking about…hypothetically speaking. But _hypothetically_ , what would you say if I told you I was cursed twenty years ago by a witch who lived in the forest.”

I couldn’t bare to look at him. I just stared at my boots and at the freezing mud and slush that marked the rutted road. A minute of silence passed before I dared to even peek at him. His face was nigh invisible in the darkness. I made out his vague features but I couldn’t tell much else.

When he finally spoke his voice was quiet and careful. “Do you mean our forest? The Cindersnap Forest here in Pelican Town?”

“Yeah…”

He cleared his throat and there was a roughness in his voice when he replied. “Hypothetically…I would do everything I could to help you break the curse.”

Thin tears welled up in my eyes and I looked at him pitifully. “And if the curse was already broken?”

He shook his head, but even without seeing his face I knew he was trying to rationalize it out in his brilliant mind.

“Morgan. What exactly happened at the lake today?”

I sniffled and shuddered as more doubt crept into my mind. He swallowed the whole ‘curse’ thing pretty well, but that was only the half of it.

“I — I — uh.” I stuffed down the overflowing emotions that threatened to burst out of my chest. “I don’t know how to explain it exactly.”

I tried to pull together an analogy that could help me make this surreal experience more, I don’t know…concrete and relatable? But I just had to rely on Elliott’s own imagination and my honest account of everything no matter how silly or made-up it seemed.

“I have an Uncle.” I blurted out. “His name is Marlon. I met him up at the mountain lake today.”

“Okay…” Elliott’s reply was cautious.

I brushed away the tears that spilled over onto my face. My stomach rolled in my gut, but I didn’t know if it was because I was hungry or getting sick with something.

I sighed. Maybe I could treat this like a band-aid. Maybe I needed to blurt everything out and let it sit.

“So…I met my Uncle Marlon. Well…he’s technically my great Uncle but I’ve always called him Uncle. He’s my Grandfather’s brother-in-law. But when I say the world ‘always’ I’m not really referring to a moment in time or the past. It’s more like I should’ve called him my Uncle if — if I had remembered that he in fact was my Uncle.”

Another pregnant pause fell between us.

“Look, I know what I just said didn’t make any —“

“— So you’re saying you have amnesia? —“

“— What?! No! I mean, yes. Kind of.” My face burned from the sheer embarrassment of how stupid I sounded. “I — uh — I guess you could call it that. But I apparently don’t have it anymore. Or at least the memories are slowly coming back.”

“And why is that?” Elliott asked calmly.

I winced and phrased the next part as a question. “I was cursed?”

Before he could respond, I tried to recover myself and jumped back into explaining everything. “The thing is Elliott…these memories…they just kinda appeared in my mind as soon as I met Uncle Marlon again. It’s like how some people look back at old photo albums and see a picture of something and it sparks a memory in their mind that they’d otherwise would’ve never remembered on their own.”

I buried my face in my hands as the headache got worse. I felt feverish and I tried to clear my mind of everything, but all of my thoughts were buzzing around in my head like an angry beehive. When I sat back up, I glanced up at Elliott who was staring back at me. The thin sliver of the moon made it just light enough for me to see that he was still puzzling through everything.

“Morgan, this —“

“— Is crazy. I know.” I interjected. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to tell you. If I heard this coming from someone else, I would definitely think they were lying but I’m not lying Elliott. I swear.”

“I know.” He replied softly. “I believe you.”

“I — wait. You do?”

He shifted sideways on the metal bench pulled me into him and gently kissed my forehead. “I do. I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

His jacket smelled like a mixture of the cabin’s woodsmoke and his cologne. I leaned into him and let his scent envelop me. As I did, more tears leaked down my cheeks and I let out a throaty laugh of relief and disbelief. “You seriously believe me? Yoba, I feel like I’m going crazy here. This was not how I thought this conversation would go.”

He hugged me tighter. “Believe me. You’re not crazy. This is a strange case but people can sometimes repress memories of their childhood, especially if something traumatic happened to them.”

I pulled away abruptly, “I haven’t repressed anything Elliott. My memories were _stolen_ from me. Taken. And without my permission. Memories of my Grandfather and my Grandmother — apparently she was alive while I was a young child and I had no idea!” The weight of that fact settled on my shoulders and I got up from the bench. “And my father never left me. _Holy shit!_ He was around when I was a kid. I don’t know for how long, or if he even was a good dad, but my mother lied to me.”

When that realization hit me, a tidal wave of bitter anger and betrayal soon followed. “Grandpa lied to me. Fuck. I bet the entire town knew about this if Uncle Marlon did. Mayor Lewis, Pierre, Caroline, Jodi…”

I pushed out of Elliott’s embrace and stormed off ready to confront each and every one of them, but Elliott rushed to my side and stopped me.

“Woah! Woah. Morgan. What are you doing?”

“I’m going to see Mayor Lewis.” I said. “I deserve answers Elliott!"

“You do.” He agreed, “But you also need to eat something. I want to talk more about this at home. I obviously have some questions about all of this, and I can help you do some research about why and how this all happened, but banging on peoples’ doors at this hour isn’t going to help you get answers.”

My anger deflated into cold defiance. “It might make me feel better if I just yell at them for a bit.”

Elliott chuckled, “It won’t, love. Trust me. It really won’t.”

No! This wouldn’t stand. Now that Elliott knew and he believed me, it only validated that I wasn’t in fact crazy and that my whole world was starting to crash in around me. I wanted answers, dammit!

“I’m still going to see him.” I growled as I tried to push past, but Elliott held fast.

“Morgan. Mayor Lewis isn’t even here! He picked up a to-go order while I was waiting for you and drove to Zuzu City with Marnie. We need to wait. I know that’s the last thing you want to do, but you can’t go and raise hell now. You need to start at the source. Call your mom first. We can try and get ahold of your dad and maybe you three can sit down and talk this out.”

I inhaled through my nose and exhaled slowly out of my mouth. I did that twice more until I could look Elliott in the face without wanting to punch him for having the audacity to be reasonable in a situation like this.

As the anger subsided, raw grief and pure exhaustion took its place and the strength left my legs. I collapsed against Elliott but he caught me and stumbled backward.

“Woah! Morgan? Morgan!”

The world was spinning around me and I felt like I was going to get sick. I held onto Elliott’s arms for dear life and struggled back to my feet.

“Morgan? Are you okay?”

“Oh…dammit. I — I don’t feel well. This happened to me at the lake. I — I feel like I’m gonna faint or be sick.” I replied breathily.

“Here. Take this. We are going home.” He passed me the plastic bag full of our food and slid around behind me to help guide and support me as we walked back to the cabin.

As we got closer, I smelled the smoldering wood from our fireplace and saw a thin grey wisp of smoke rising from the chimney. When we approached the stoop, a strange feeling overtook me and I let go of Elliott’s hand and collapsed onto the steps like a sack of potatoes. The cabin looked different to me. It looked newer, the wood looked fresher, and then I heard the squeal of piglets off to my left where I knew there were none.

“Morgan?”

Elliott’s voice sounded so far away and I wondered if I was hallucinating. I struggled to get to my feet as the world upended and the ringing in my ears grew to be deafening. I smelled the warm honey and maple syrup from Grandma’s famous corn bread. Grandpa’s muck boots sat next to my own. The ghost of a grey tabby cat streaked through my legs and I saw myself — my four year old self — racing after the cat squealing in excitement.

“Morgan!” My mother’s voice yelled as clear as a bell. I looked back in the direction that we had come expecting to see her SUV in the driveway, but all I saw was Elliott who was saying something that I couldn’t hear.

My body flushed hot and cold. My heart pounded in my throat. I felt sick…exactly like how I felt when I caught meningitis.

“Morgan!” A chorus of voices yelled at me from all directions.

“Morgan!”

“Morgan!”

Elliott gathered me up from the porch steps and carried me into the warm cabin. He laid me on the couch and I kicked my feet off the side to try and minimize the amount of mud I got on the furniture.

“I’m r-remembering things.” I croaked. Tears dripped from my cheeks and left faint damp blotches on the mint green upholstery. “I — Yoba dammit, there’s so much I’m remembering.”

He held me tighter and murmured, “It’s okay. Just breathe, love. Tell me what you’re remembering.”

I tried to focus on the intangible swirling thoughts and sensations that flashed in my mind but each memory popped out of my head as quickly as it came. It was like I was watching a slide show at three times the normal speed.

“I remember my Grandma’s cooking. I always thought she had died from cancer before I was born, but I know that’s not true. Grandpa kept pigs in the pasture out past where my chicken coop is now. I knew that from before but now I remember the details. I remember the white-washed wooden shed he built and that we’d feed them our table scraps when the compost pile was too full.”

Another memory materialized which made me chuckle. “And one of his sows had piglets. I snuck one of them into the spare bedroom where mom and I were sleeping. I had this crazy scheme that I’d raise it in secret and it would grow up to be my pet. Grandpa knew exactly I was doing and I think he played along for a couple of hours, but my Mom was not happy. I was traumatized when she told me I had to bring little Oinkers back to his mom.”

Elliott chuckled and stroked my sweat-beaded brow, “That very much sounds like you.”

Damn him. He was right. It felt good to talk this out. Talking about these things made them seem more real and substantial now and it alleviated my physical ailments as well.

Elliott pulled my boots off and set them by the door. Then he helped me sit up. Once I was sure that the room wouldn’t spin out from beneath me, I let Elliott help me up to my feet and we walked to the small kitchen table where our to-go boxes were waiting.

“I’m sure the food is cold by now.” I said apologetically.

Elliott shrugged, “I’ll reheat it in the microwave. Do you feel well enough to have some wine or do you want some water?”

“Wine, please.” I sank into the chair and Golden jumped up onto the table. I picked her up and set her in my lap. She knew she wasn’t suppose to be on the table, but then again she was a cat and she did as she pleased.

Although I felt exhausted, the pounding headache was gone and my nausea was replaced with ravenous hunger. Elliott transferred our meals into microwave-safe bowls and placed one in the microwave for a couple of minute. As it heated up, the kitchen filled with the delicate aroma of basil and oregano that Gus used in his homemade spaghetti sauce and my stomach audibly growled.

He brought the wine glasses over and passed me my warm bowl before popping his into the microwave. He uncorked the wine with practiced efficiency and poured us both a healthy amount. Before Elliott sat down with his own food, I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards me.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being so patient and amazing and … I don’t now … calm about all of this?” I chuckled awkwardly. “I’m sure this wasn’t how you thought our night would turn out, and I’m sure I probably look and sound like a crazy person, but —“

He silenced my nervous babbling with a kiss that held a little more heat and passion than I was ready for. I wanted to reciprocate with the same gusto but I knew where that would take us and absolutely needed to eat something before we went down that avenue. I pulled away with a rueful smile, but I noticed that the passion behind Elliott’s kiss came from a place of fear rather than lust.

“You scared me, that’s all.” He murmured. “You’re usually so calm. Seeing you this upset is unsettling.”

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t really know what I was apologizing for but I felt that it needed to be said anyway.

He shook his head. “There’s no need to apologize. Now please eat. I’ll feel better knowing that you’re taking proper care of yourself.”

We sat down at the table and divided up the spoils. The wine that Elliott chose was tart and fruity without being overwhelmingly sweet, and Gus’s spaghetti was simply perfect. The noodles were cooked al dente and the sauce held a slight sweetness that only local and home-grown tomatoes could have.

Elliott and I ate in companionable silence. Well, he ate. I inhaled. I forced myself to let my food settle before I ventured for more. Golden sat on my lap purring like a small engine. Thanks to Elliott’s regular conditioning with the laser pointer and our dwindling supply of cat treats, Golden maintained her athletic build and weighed an impressive fifteen pounds. I was concerned that she was too heavy but Marnie assured me that Golden was just a physically large cat.

As Elliott finished eating, I finally dared to look around the inside of the cabin to try and remember moments or memories that had been taken from me. There wasn’t a lot that came to me at first. I knew that my Grandma always sat on the side of the table where Elliott sat now. The natural light from the morning sunrise made it easier for her to see when she was working on her needlepoint.

I looked towards the fireplace and its mantle to where Grandpa’s army photograph sat. The black and white picture showed my Grandpa as a handsome man barely out of his teens. His dirty blond hair was neatly parted and combed. He held his ornate Ferngill Republic army helmet beneath his left arm while his right hand rested on a saber. I don’t know why but the picture made me feel melancholy now.

Before I could dive too deep down the rabbit hole of memories, I heard my cell phone ringing. There were only a couple of people who would be calling me at this hour, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to talk to either of them right now.

I glanced wordlessly at Elliott and he nodded in response.

“I’ll clean up. You should probably take that.”

I poured myself another healthy portion of wine which made Elliott smile and I picked up my phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi honey!” My mom’s voice said. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

Already the lump in my throat was forming so I gulped down some wine before speaking. “Uh—no — no. You didn’t wake me. Elliott and I were just finishing dinner.”

“Oh. Well then I won’t keep you. I just wanted to remind you of the baby shower this weekend. Remember, I don’t want you to buy me anything. The advantage of having younger co-workers is that they have tons and tons of baby clothes that they are looking to sell for cheap. This is going to be a low-key celebration at the house. Marge is bringing her amazing strawberry shortcake and her daughters have some silly games for us to play. I didn’t want to have a party but — well you know how Marge gets.”

I actually didn’t. Hell, I couldn’t even remember what Marge looked like but I just mumbled in agreement.

“It’s going to be a brunch affair. I’ll be making a quiche. If you wanted to bring anything from the farm, just remember that it needs to be pasteurized.”

“Mmhmm.”

Mom’s tone changed and became sharper, “What’s the matter? You sound upset. You’re not still jealous of your little brother or sister, are you?”

“W-what?” My voice cracked and I sniffled. “No! Yoba, no. It’s not that. It — I —“

Instead of saying what I wanted to say, a raw choking sound came out of my throat and I pulled the receiver away from me and hugged the phone against my chest.

“Honey? Honey what’s wrong!?” Her voice was barely audible. Just as I brought the phone back up to my ear, she then said a little softer “Are you and Elliott having problems?”  
  
She had lowered her voice just in case Elliott was nearby and accidentally overheard her accusation. The sheer fact that she would jump to Elliott being the problem was the spark that lit the tinder.

“No.” I snapped. “No mom. We’re not. We’re great actually.”

“Oh. Then is it your time of the month?”

I completely ignored _that_ question.

“I talked to dad this morning.” I spat.

“What dad? Whose dad?”

“ _My_ dad.” I snarled. “You know. Henry. The man you fucked to conceive me when you were a teenager.”

“Morgan Grace you will watch your mouth!”

I continued without missing a beat. “The man who you said left us when I was just a baby. The man whose name I didn’t even know until this morning. The man who you were going to build a house with in hills up by the mountain lake? Remember him?”

I heard my mother’s own small gasp and I took that opportunity and that brief pause to unleash everything I had pent up inside me since this morning.

“Yeah. So imagine the pleasant day that I had. Apparently I have an Uncle too? Yeah, he reintroduced himself to me while I was fishing today. Imagine my surprise when I learn that you’ve lied to me for my entire life. Grandpa’s lied to me. This whole damned town has lied to me!”

“Morgan! No — No — listen honey —“

“— NO YOU LISTEN!” Tears streamed down my face. I was trembling so badly that half of my wine sloshed out of the glass and so I set it down on the dresser. “I just found out today that my father never left me when I was a baby like you and Grandpa claimed. I discovered that I was not only cursed by a witch — a Yoba damned witch — but I was also alive when Grandma was still going through chemo. _You_ told me she died before I was born! I apparently use to play fight with a sword strapped to my hip, and now I have who-knows-how-many years of memories pushing their way back into my brain! There is NO excuse or reason you could give me that would make any of this okay!”

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. I heard soft sobs on the other end which told me that we hadn’t been disconnected.

I exhaled so loudly that my own phone’s receiver crackled. I cleared my throat but my voice came out like I had swallowed gravel. “When I have calmed down, I will call you back and you will explain everything to me. But now, I — I don’t want to talk to you.”

“H-honey. I never meant to hurt you.” She croaked. “I love you, darling. Grandpa and I had no choice. If we told you the truth when you were a child…the shock to your system would’ve killed you. At least that’s what Rasmodius said. What other choice did I have?”

“Who the hell is Rasmodius!?”

“The wizard.” Mom interjected.

Of course there was a wizard involved.

“Good-bye mother.” I spat. “I can’t handle this right now.”

“O-okay hon.” Mom murmured. “I love you.”

I couldn’t say it back. Of course I still loved her. She was my mother. But I didn’t feel love for her in that moment. I only felt cold gut-wrenching betrayal peppered with the vindication of being finally told the truth.

“Bye.” I said and I ended the call.

I downed my glass of wine in several greedy swallows. My head spun and I felt giddy and loose; it was like my brain was just sort of floating around in my skull. I stepped out of the bedroom and felt Elliott’s eyes on me.

“Sorry you had to hear that.” I mumbled. “I’m going to check on Stella and the goats before I go to bed. I won’t be gone long.”

“Just give me a second to get my boots on and I’ll go with you. Elliott replied. “I should be by you in case you have an —“ He struggled to find a different word than ‘episode’ and then settled on “In case you get sick.”

I wanted to stay that I wouldn’t, but I didn’t know that. So I just nodded and waited for him to grab his coat and slip into boots.

I let myself outside and pulled my winter hat down around my ears. The late evening mist was turning into spitting sleet and I tried to shield my face from the biting cold.

I didn’t need a headlamp to know exactly where I was going. I could’ve walked to the barn blindfolded. It’s amazing how much you can adjust to something after a year of repetition. There was also something calming about walking around at night. Unlike the frantic terror of getting lost as night descends, being on the farm at night always made me feel better about life. It was like I could just run away from my problems and disappear into the darkness.

Elliott followed silently behind me as we walked out to the barn. We both entered the side door and let our eyes adjust to the dim red emergency light in the corner which casted just enough glow for me to make my way to Stella’s paddock. The gate wasn’t latched so she could push her way out and sleep in the middle of the barn if she wanted, but with her pregnancy, Stella had become a lot more of a homebody.

Stella lowed softly and she thrusted her head over the railing to nose at my hands.

“Sorry girl.” I murmured as I stroked her forehead. “No treats tonight. I just …” I sighed. “I just came to check on you.”

She lowed again and swished her tail.

“Have you picked out a name for her little one yet?” Elliott asked.

I shook my head. “I can’t think of any names that I like. I am probably going to wait until the baby is born and then decide.”

Stella’s warm breath tickled my fingers and her large, wet tongue swiped across my palm just to make sure that I didn’t have any tasty morsel hiding anywhere.

“Ugh. Thanks girl.” I smeared her slobber on my jeans.

We walked to the other side of the barn where I kept the goats. Nina and Nelle were both asleep in the stall that they shared. I had to nail chicken wire across the paddock door so they couldn’t climb out in the night and run amuck in the barn. I never realized how mischievous goats could be until I got the twins. They were nearly identical in coloring with cream coats and black rumps, but Nina was slightly larger and she made a lower bleating sound when she talked.

Unfortunately, the animals could only provide a temporary distraction from what was really bothering me.

“Do you think I was out of line?” I asked Elliott. Then I clarified, “With my mom, I mean.”

“No. I think you said what you needed to say.”

I nodded gratefully but my heart still ached and the headache was returning. “Then why do I feel so — so — _bad_ about it.”

We left the barn and the sleet had turned to full-blown snowflakes. They landed in Elliott’s hair like small glittering crystals. He closed the side door to the barn and then took my hand. We stood beneath the barn roof slightly sheltered from the snow and he turned to me.

“You shouldn’t feel bad about expressing your true feelings, no matter how raw they might be. Your mother made a mistake. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still love her, but I would be just as upset if I was in your position.”

“I —“ I squeezed my eyes shut and sniffed. Yoba, I hadn’t cried this much in months. “I don’t know what to do about any of this Elliott! My whole world is crashing down around me.”

Elliott pulled me into a crushing hug and I buried my face into his chest and sobbed. We probably stood outside that barn for twenty minutes until I finally emerged from his jacket, puffy-eyed and exhausted.

He cupped my face and kissed me. I tasted the salt from my tears in that kiss and it made me want more.

“Morgan, you are the strongest person I’ve ever met. Hold onto that.”

“I’ll try.” I murmured.

He kissed my forehead. “C’mon. Let’s go to bed.”

“Go to bed, or _go_ to bed?”

Elliott chuckled, “Which would you prefer?”

It was nearly midnight and way past my usual bedtime, but then again, this had been the shittiest day I’ve ever had I desperately needed something more than just sleep.

I combed my fingers through Elliott’s snow-damp hair and drew him into me. “Take me to bed then Mr. Michaels.”

“Gladly my love.”


	3. A Late-Night Surprise (Rated T)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: There is a semi-detailed description of Stella giving birth to her calf in this chapter.

Chapter 3 — A Late-Night Surprise (Rated T)

March 2nd, Early Morning (Spring)

I slept fitfully, My mind jumped between an assortment of dreams (or maybe they were memories) about my mother and grandfather, yet when I awoke, I couldn’t recall the details to any of it. All that remained was a strange sense of discomfort, confusion, and misery.

“Morgan?” Elliott murmured. “Are you okay?”

He was lying on his stomach; his bare back was partially covered by his hair which only accentuated the long lines of his shoulder blades and the slight dip in his spine. Elliott wasn’t skinny per se, rather he was remarkably fit considering the work that he did; he had a swimmer’s or a gymnast’s build, and despite not having a back of rippling muscle, there was a firmness to his body that I appreciated.

I carefully crawled over the top of him and pressed my chest up against his back. I swept his hair to the side and kissed his warm skin at the top of his shoulder blades before I settled my weight on top of his back and hips.

“Sorry to wake you.” I whispered. “I’m just having a hard time sleeping and you’re so —“ I inhaled his scent and nuzzled against his back. — “you’re so warm. Am I hurting you?”

He chuckled sleepily. “No love. You’re not hurting me. I like when you’re on top of me, although I should be on my back for the maximum effect.”

He bucked his hips up as if to punctuate what he meant. I wrapped my arms beneath his pillow and entwined my fingers with his.

“Nice try. I’m just here to steal your body heat.”

“That’s a shame.” He yawned. “Then at least pull the covers over us so you don’t catch a chill.”

I did and then I leaned my full weight across his back. I looked like I was a cat basking on a heated rock, and I tried to settle into the peaceful tenderness of feeling his bare skin against my face.

Elliott’s breathing slowed and he was back asleep within seconds. I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep but a part of me was afraid that the memories or the dreams would come back. But shouldn’t I want them back? Shouldn’t I do everything in my power to get back all of the memories that were stolen from me? Then again…maybe I didn’t want them back. Maybe I wanted to live in ignorance. Maybe I wanted things to go back to the way they used to be where the only things on my mind were paying bills, keeping up with chores, and being a good girlfriend.

I sighed and felt tears prick the corners of my eyes. My Mom’s and Grandpa’s betrayal still burned hot and raw in my chest. Although Mom and I had our typical mother-daughter tiffs before, we usually got over whatever we were fighting about and still spoke to each other the next day. But this…I don’t think I could ever forgive her for this. And my Grandpa — the man who was both my surrogate father and the person whom I idolized the most — well his lie was something I wasn’t ready to deal with just yet. The more I dwelled on everything, the more angry I became, and soon sleeping was completely out of the question.

I gave Elliott one more kiss at the nape of his neck. He grunted something unintelligible but his face conveyed sleepy adoration. It was an expression that was both insufferably cute and hopelessly endearing. I climbed off him and draped the covers over his back before slipping out into the dark living room.

The blue LED digital clock on the microwave said that it was half past one in the morning. I probably slept for only a couple of hours before my dreams woke me up.

My footsteps were nearly silent as I crossed the wooden floor in my socks. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. As I drank, Golden jumped up onto the countertop and chuffed once and reached out to take the water from my hand.

“Stop!” I grumbled and I turned away from her.

She let out an annoyed high-pitched meow and then I heard a heavy thump as she hit the floor with considerable force. A grey-gold blur raced across the kitchen to the door and she started pawing at it while mournfully crying.

“Alright. I’ll let you out you big baby. Just wait a second.”

I set the empty glass near the sink, unlocked the door, and opened it just enough for her to slip out into the night.

But when I did, she looked at me with an expression that was one part confused and one part annoyed.

“Go!” I urged.

Her white-tuffed tail twitched and she meowed in an unusually panicked tone. I knew her well enough by now to know roughly what she wanted by her cries, but this sound coupled with her body language was something completely new to me.

“Hush!” I scolded. “Go outside.”

“Me-ooow.” She complained. The second part of her cry sounded eerily like she was saying ‘No.’

“Fine. Be that way.” I huffed as I closed the door.

I walked over to the couch and turned on the reading light. I was halfway through _Old Man and the Sea_ (It was Elliott's recommendation) and I hoped that reading a little would help me fall into some semblance of a dreamless sleep, but Golden jumped onto the couch and meowed in shrill alarm.

I glanced back towards the bedroom but Elliott hadn’t stirred.

“Hush!” I repeated. “If you want to go outside, then go outside!”

I picked her up and I was about to toss her out of the cabin but she wiggled out of my grasp, hit the ground with an audible thump, and ran to the door again.

“Good Yoba…” I muttered. “Fine. I will take you outside with me. You’re such a baby. Can’t even go outside at night by yourself. You’re a freaking predator!”

I slipped on my calf-high barn boots and grabbed my jacket. When I opened the door this second time around, Golden weaved between my legs, raced down the wooden stoop, and then looked back to check that I was following her.

“I’m right behind you. Now what?” I asked her.

Golden chattered at me. It was a sound she usually reserved for the birds that perched on the oak tree near the kitchen window. It was her annoyed sound and she was clearly annoyed at me.

My cat trotted down the dirt path that led to the barn and the pasture. Her feline grace kept her from getting dirty while my lumbering ox-like steps splashed out mud which stained the bottoms of my blue jeans. I followed Golden to the barn’s side door. She clawed at the whitewashed wood, meowed at me, and I let her in and followed after her.

Nina and Nelle’s brays were sharp and loud. They raced around their pen when they saw me and knocked their hooves against the chicken wire and wooden gate. Oh no! Something was indeed wrong. I grabbed the electric lantern that hung near the door, turned it on, and looked around for Stella. She was huddled up in the corner of the barn, panting heavily, and looking mildly irritated. Out beneath her tail, I saw a white bulbous sac protruding inch by inch, and then everything hit me at once.

Stella was giving birth!

I glanced at my cat who raced up the hay bales and watched the spectacle with focused intensity.

 _Oh no_! Stella was giving birth and Marnie was still with Mayor Lewis in Zuzu City. Even if I called her now, there was no way she’d make it back here in time to help with the birth. A cold realization crept through my spine. I’d be helping Stella through this all alone.

My sleep-deprived brain jolted into action. I didn’t have time to panic. I had to focus. First thing first. I partially opened the barn door and then I clipped small halters on to the goats and led them outside. The larger one, Nina, went without a fuss, but curious and stubborn Nelle bucked and fought me as she tried to make a break for Stella.

“No! Stupid goat!” I growled. “Leave her alone.”

I wrapped my arms around Nelle’s middle, picked her up, and physically tossed all seventy pounds of her out into the pasture before slamming the barn door shut.

I turned back to Stella who seems rather nonplussed by everything despite being in obvious pain. Marnie did give me a verbal rundown of the calving process and I had read a couple of agricultural and animal husbandry books prior to Stella’s pregnancy. In theory I knew what to do but in practice it was a whole other story. I tried to organize my thoughts and fight through the panic as I called up the process in my mind.

“Okay…”I said aloud. “You’ve probably been laboring for three or four hours now.”

I narrowed my eyes at the bovine. “Why didn’t I notice this when Elliott and I were checking on you?” Oh…right. My own personal drama kind of overshadowed anything else at the moment.

Stella sank to all fours and leaned on her side. From this vantage point I could see the muscles beneath her skin quiver and ripple as contractions worked the calf down the birth canal. She extended her head as she pushed through the contraction, but she was remarkably quiet about the entire thing. I’m sure if Golden hadn’t led me outside, I would’ve not known Stella was in labor at all.

I grabbed her water pail, which was now empty, and I filled it half full and tilted it towards her so she could drink if she wanted. She immediately sought it out, drank several long gulps, and exhaled a tired sigh.

My mind immediately conjured up the overblown TV sitcom situations where the panicking father-to-be feeds ice chips to his laboring wife or girlfriend while she is screaming in pain. Then I heard Marnie’s voice in my head as I thought back to the advice she had given me over the phone when Stella was approaching her due date.

“As long as it's a normal birth, you’re gonna feel mighty useless. All you can really do is keep her calm and hydrated. Once she passes the water sac, you should see a hoof and a head, or at least one hoof. If you see three or four hooves or Yoba-forbid the calf’s rump, then you gotta go in there and help rotate the calf into the correct birthing position.”

Marnie had given me a pair of elbow-length rubber gloves just in case, but my stomach churned at the thought of doing something like that to Stella. If her life was on the line, I would bite the bullet and just do it, but I’d rather not get _that_ acquainted with my cow. I just prayed that I wouldn’t have to use them at all.

I checked on Stella again. She gave another push and the muscles beneath her sweat-glistening skin rippled like disturbed water on a pond. I carefully approached her rump while speaking in a low, encouraging tone and I set the electric lamp on a nearby hay bale.

Beneath her black tail, I saw a long and equally black snout with a dot of white emerge from Stella’s vagina.

“C’mon. Let’s see a leg too.” I murmured.

Stella pushed again and beneath the water bag and the calf’s head were two legs pinned together. I let out a relieved sigh. The calf was in the correct position to come out. Thank Yoba.

“C’mon Momma. You’re doing great.”

The cheering was more for my nerves than for Stella, but she gave a head shake and pushed against the contraction. The calf's head and forelegs inched out ever so slightly.

“Once the calf’s head is clear of the birthing canal, you gotta tear off the clear membrane so the baby can take its first breaths.” Marnie’s voice said.

I kept offering Stella words of encouragement as I grasped the calf’s slick wet head and tore the membrane open like I was tearing open a plastic bag. The sounds and the tactile sensations were uniquely unpleasant, but I gritted my teeth and focused on the task at hand. Hey, I wanted to be a farmer. This is what farming entailed.

The books I read told me to wait until the calf’s chest was out before clearing out any mucus and amniotic fluid from the calf’s nose and mouth because the mother’s contractions were still compressing the baby’s chest. So I stepped back and waited for another few minutes as Stella labored and the calf slid into the world. Stella gave one final push and out came the hind legs along with amniotic fluid and some blood.

The new mom rested her head against the fresh straw and panted in exhaustion. I took that moment to fully remove the birthing membrane, clean out its nose and mouth with a large rubber pipette, and start rubbing the calf’s slick body to stimulate its breathing.

“C’mon baby. Breathe. That’s it.” I murmured.

I slipped my fingers into the calf’s mouth to check that the fluid was gone but he or she clearly didn’t like that because the calf’s eyes fluttered open and let out a raspy gasp. Stella was on her feet faster than I would’ve anticipated and she let out a shrill moo and pawed the ground.

I scrambled to my feet and backed away from her and the baby. “Sorry momma. I was only trying to help.”

She shook her head and then sniffed her new baby. I never knew that barn animals could be so expressive but Stella clearly knew this baby was not only hers but that she loved it and needed to help it. The calf coughed a couple of times and she nuzzled it. Then Stella started to clean it and jostle it, prodding the calf to its feet within minutes of being born.

I slipped into the small utility room that held my milking equipment so I could wash my hands in the plastic dump sink. The water was freezing but I didn’t care. A sense of euphoria spread through my veins which tempered the cold.

Stella had her baby. I had a new baby cow on the farm and … oh damn it. I sighed and crept back into the barn. The calf was still lying on the ground but it was sitting up and looking around. Now there was no way for me to quickly check the cow’s sex, and I knew that Stella would not let me anywhere near her baby right now, at least not while her protective mom instincts were working as nature intended.

Oh well.

I didn’t have to give Stella’s baby a name right this second. In fact, most farmers gave their cows numbers instead of names because that stopped them from becoming attached to them before they were sent out for slaughter. The idea that I might one day butcher Stella’s baby for meat did not sit well with me. I wasn’t against eating meat — due to the war rations most red meat was highly expensive and considered a luxury — but I couldn’t eat a cow that I brought into this world. No. Stella’s baby, he or she, was with us for the long haul.

Golden weaved in between my legs and brushed up against my calf as if to say, “See. I did a good job, right?!”

“Thank you.” I told her as I scratched her behind her ears and beneath her chin. “You are a remarkable cat.”

Her loud purring eased any residual anxiety and adrenaline that was left in my body and I felt sleep and fatigue sink in.

“C’mon. Let's’ go inside.” I told her.

I let the goats back into their pen. Again Nina came without a fuss but Nelle made me chase her down in the pasture and drag her back literally kicking and bleating.

Sure. They gave milk while Stella was recuperating and carrying her baby, but sometimes I wondered if owning goats was worth the trouble.

I trudged back to the cabin with Golden leading the way yet again. Thin wisps of grey clouds were visible in the dim, pre-dawn light. Had I really been out in the barn for hours? It felt like I had only been gone for a few minutes. Sure enough, the clock on the microwave read 5:43am.

I stripped off my jeans and my jacket near the door and walked back to the bedroom in my sleep shirt and my underwear. I probably smelled like the barn but taking a shower would only wake me up and I desperately needed the sleep.

Instead, I pulled back the covers and slid into bed. Elliott rolled over when he felt my weight and pulled me against him.

There was a moment of silence and then I heard him murmur, “You were out in the barn I take it?”

“Sorry. I’ll shower in the morning. I just need to sleep now that my asshole body is telling me it is finally tired.”

He sighed and kissed my bare shoulder. “Normally I don’t mind your cursing but don’t curse about yourself. Ninety-nine percent of your body is not an asshole.”

I giggled. “Gross.”

He shook his head and I’m sure he would’ve rolled his eyes if his eyes were open. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I replied. “Hey, guess what?”

“Hmm?”

“Stella had her baby! I don’t know the baby’s sex but it was amazing, and kinda gross, but also amazing.”

“What are you going to name him or her?”  
  
“I dunno.” I replied. “You should choose.”

“And why’s that?”

I took his hand and admired how his long fingers curled around mine. His pale skin looked like fine marble in the dim morning light.

“Because we’ve been living together for almost six months now and this farm is as much mine as it is yours. I want you to feel like you can make your mark here.” I kissed his knuckles and brought his hand to my chest. “Besides, you are far more creative than I am. I’d probably name her calf Midnight or Blackie on account of the black coat.”

Elliott coughed in an attempt to mask his clear distaste. “Blackie?”

Just then, Golden jumped up onto the bed and Elliott paused in recognition. “Ah. Point taken.”

I chuckled and settled in for sleep. “Just think about it, okay?”

Elliott grunted in agreement and I went to sleep feeling content and comfortable, but of course, that didn’t keep away the dreams.

* * *

_I locked Nina into her pen but Nelle was nowhere to be found. I needed to get her back so I could finally go to bed. I walked out into the pasture and looked around for the stupid beast. It was light enough for me to see that Nelle wasn’t in the pasture, but I still had to check._

_I whistled and called for Nelle as my own breathing and the squelching of my boots through the mud were the only sounds that answered back. As I walked along the pasture’s inside perimeter, my heart seized in my chest when I saw that two of my fence posts had tipped over in the mud which left a gap large enough for Stella to pass through let alone a goat._

_“Are you kidding me!” I exclaimed._

_I slipped through the gap and set the posts against the rest of the fence. I’d have to hire Robin and have her help me patch the fence before I could let the animals out again. Between the cold Spring we were having and the ceaseless snow and rain, I was starting to feel fed up over the dismal weather._

_I called for Nelle again but there was no answer. I considered going back to the barn to grab some grain to entice her back, but time was of the essence, and although she was a pain in my ass, she was still my pain in the ass and I couldn’t let her become easy food for some wolf or bear._

_Once I made it to the edge of the farm, I started patrolling the southern edge and that’s when I heard a noise come from the forest edge. Most of the farm was surrounded by a dense pine forest and in some areas the trees were so thick and twisted from the summer storms that they created faux caves and hovels. In one of these hovels, I saw Nelle’s black and grey tail swishing as she trotted deeper into the undergrowth._

_“Nelle!” I called. “C’mere. I’ve got a treat!”_

_Of course the damn goat didn’t come so I ventured into a cavernous hovel after her. Pine boughs and knotty branches as thick as my arm twisted overhead to create a natural ceiling which blocked out all light. I felt my way through the undergrowth and kept calling Nelle’s name. Something in my mind was screaming at me to stop but something else was telling me to keep going. If I turned back now, I was sure that I would never again have the chance to explore this strange cavern._

_As I walked, the ground turned swampy and water sloshed over my boots. Strangely the air started to get warmer … no not warmer … muggier and more humid. It felt like I was walking into a sauna. I took my jacket off and hung it on a nearby branch but the branch sucked its limb and my jacket into the impenetrable forest wall._

_That’s … strange._

_There was a dim light ahead of me so I kept walking through the steadily deepening water. When I emerged from the forest tunnel, I noticed that the sky was a vibrant purple. Sweat dripped down the nape of my neck and I almost considered taking off my shirt and walking around in my sports bra. It was just so damn muggy!_

_Lightning flashed off in the distance and thunder rumbled overhead. I hoped that whatever storm was coming would come soon. Maybe some rain would cut the humidity._

_“Hello dear.” A voice said off to my right._

_I turned to the sound and saw a tall, middle-aged woman standing outside a quaint hut. As I walked closer to her, the water receded to dry land. Yoba it felt good to walk on land once again._

_“Are you lost my child”_

_“I — I don’t know.” I replied. “Where am I?”_

_The woman looked surprised. Her facial features were delicate and feminine with thin dark eyebrows and dark eyes. Her full red lips curled up into a smile. She looked like an old silent movie starlet, and as she considered my question, I had the sense that I had seen her before._

_“You’re at my home.” She replied._

_She gestured to a structure covered with the same thick tree boughs and leaves that made up the cavern I came through. The building looked to be the size of Elliott’s old beachfront cabin, but the outside walls looked stone-made rather than made out of wood. Ornate carvings decorated the walls and one apple-shaped figure above the door caught my eye. The apple-shaped creature looked like the same one I saw on the farm yesterday, but this one was impaled on a thick spike._

_“I — I’m looking for my goat.” I stammered. “If you haven’t seen her, I’ll just be on my way.”_

_The woman stepped closer. She moved with a supernatural grace that couldn’t have been human. “Wait Morgan! I mean you no harm. It has been a long time since we last talked. Don’t you remember?”_

_I was about to disagree but then I saw a ghostly image of my six year old child self run past._

_“Mommy Miranda! Look what I made you!”_

_The woman knelt down next to my child specter and accepted a wreath full of assorted fall leaves and half-dead dandelions._

_“This is lovely! Thank you my dear.”_

_My ghostly alter-ego vanished as did the object I had given her. She stood up and looked at me. “See? You were such a loving child.”_

_“W-why don’t I remember you?” I stammered. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember this place. I — I — don’t remember.”_

_“Shh. It’s alright dearest one.” She cooed. Her hands took mine and her skin felt wafer-thin and unpleasantly dry._

_“Come on inside. Let me get the kettle going and we’ll sit and talk over some nice tea. I want to hear all about this man you’re seeing. He looks like such a handsome gentleman. He’s far smarter than the other one.”_

_“You — you mean Brandon?”_

_“Yes.” She replied. “Brandon. Ugh. What a boring name. He wasn’t right for you but it took you a long time to finally listen. Stubborn just like your father, hm?”_

_“What?”_

_She ignored me and led me towards her hut. “But this one. Elliott is his name, right? Yes, Elliott is such a romantic name. It’s like the name of a fairy tale hero. He’s a far better match for you. But what do I know?”_

_No. This was wrong. This didn’t seem right at all._

_I dug my heels in and stared at the woman._

_“Who are you?”_

_“Morgan. Don’t be silly. You know who I am.”_

_Like flipping on a light switch, I did know who she was and I jerked my hands from her grasp._

_“You’re Miranda. You — You’re the Swamp Witch.”_

_Her smile grew into something terrible and insidious. “Yes. That’s what they call me, isn’t it? The Swamp Witch has such a terrible ring to it, don’t you think? Why don’t you just call me Mamma Miranda like you used to? Hm? You were such a darling child.”_

_“You’re not my mother.” I stated firmly. “Why would I call you Mamma?”_

_She looked at me. “Oh come now. Don’t be silly Morgan. You know your own mother. I’m —“_

_“— My mother is Diane Raymond.” I spat out. “This — none of this is right. This isn’t right. I’m leaving.”_

_Just then, I heard a faint buzzing sound. It grew louder and louder until it drowned out all of the sounds around me. Suddenly three flesh-colored objects flew into me. I ducked and protected my head with my hands. I felt a hot stabbing pain in my left palm and my right bicep as two of the things stung me._

_I cried out and collapsed onto the ground. The creatures were gigantic flies and they circled around for another attack until Miranda held up her hands and a green light pulsed out which stunned them._

_“Oh! Oh dear. Here darling child. Let Momma see.” She came to me and grabbed my hand in an iron grip. Then she pulled the stinger out and kissed my palm like my mother used to kiss my skinned knee._

_“Did those icky buggies get you anywhere else?”_

_Everything in my mind was screaming at me to run but whatever was in the bugs’ stingers sapped my strength. I felt paralyzed and rooted to the ground. I tried to scream but only a faint whimper escaped my lips._

_I was dreaming. I had to be dreaming. I had to wake up. Dammit. No!_

_Miranda picked me up as easily as a woman could pick up a sleeping toddler and she carried me towards her hut._

_The door opened on its own and she brought me into the hut. The interior was so dark and cold. It felt like she was bringing me into a tomb._

_“Relax and be still my child.” Miranda said. Her husky low voice had taken on a gravely timber._

_She placed me on a stone slab and then struck a match and lit a kerosene lamp. In the shadows her grotesque face loomed over me in sharp relief. No longer was Miranda the gorgeous movie starlet whom I might catch on TV when Grandpa was watching classic movies. No, now her skin was a sickly green and sagging around her eyes, lips, and chin. She looked like a wax bust that was set near a fire for too long and it started to melt. One pale eye glanced down at me while the other looked out towards the doorway. The independent movement in her eyes gave her an insectoid-look which was hideous beyond words._

“Morgan! Wake up, love!”

_I heard Elliott’s voice and I whimpered._

_“H-help.” I gurgled._

_Miranda cackled and she waved her hand which lit all of the candles in the hut. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a looming onyx statue with glowing green eyes and its arms outstretched. The stone basin in its center was filled with a red substance that looked suspiciously like blood._

“Morgan!” Elliott yelled.

_Elliott's voice reverberated against the stone walls. The Swamp Witch looked at me with pure disdain and then struck me across the face._

_“Tell him to go away.”_

_I struggled as my metallic blood slid down my throat and spilled out of my clenched lips._

_“H-Help.” I gurgled._

_The witch grabbed my chin in her steel-vice grip and I prayed that she wouldn’t break my jaw._

_“Tell him to go away or I will kill him.”_

_“G-go away E-Elliott.” I choked._

_Then there was a flash of bright white light and I felt myself free-falling through nothing. My stomach flew into my throat and all breath escaped me. I couldn’t even scream._


	4. Comfort and Corruption (Rated T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some Morgan and Elliott fluff and cuteness, then a lore dump ahead full of crazy lore-centered magic, angst, and melodrama. Let’s go!

Chapter 4 - Comfort and Corruption (Rated T)

March 2nd (Spring)

“Morgan! Morgan, wake up!”

I jolted awake and flung my arms out to brace myself for a fall that would never come. My stomach was in my throat and I looked around wide-eyed at my bedroom. Elliott leaned over me. The morning light kissed the edge of the sheets and Golden looked at me from her cat bed with a detached indifference before going back to sleep.

“W-what time is it?” I croaked.

“Half-past eight. I turned off your alarm and let you sleep for a little while longer since you were up with Stella. You haven’t been sleeping much.”

I propped myself up against the headboard. The back of my sleep shirt was damp with sweat and my mouth felt like I had swallowed sand. My right bicep and my left palm throbbed from the pain of being stung, but when I looked down at my palm and checked my arm, I didn’t see any marks or obvious wounds. I mean, of course I didn’t. I just had a nightmare. It wasn't real.

“Did I wake you?”

“You were screaming in your sleep.” He remarked nonchalantly. “You said my name a couple of times and I was concerned.”

I remembered how Elliott’s voice seemed to reverberate off the walls in the witch’s hut like his voice was reverberating off the walls of my mind. Yet, somehow the witch heard him. She threatened him and — No! I couldn’t unpack this right now. Each time my subconscious tried to dip its toe back into that dream and bring it to the forefront of my memory, I felt the sickening sensation of being paralyzed by whatever that witch did to me. I felt so helpless. I felt violated. I never wanted to feel that way ever again.

“Can you just hold me right now. I — I need to experience something real, not some twisted nightmare or memory.”

Elliott drew the covers up to our necks and pulled me against his chest. His head rested on top of mine and his warm hand slipped beneath my shirt to gently rub my back.

“Was it another memory?”

“I — I don’t know. It felt like a nightmare at first but then…” I shivered and buried myself deeper into Elliott’s chest. Yoba, I wanted to be closer to him. I was never someone who needed a man to save me, and I knew Elliott couldn't do anything that would ease my fears right now, but sometimes it just felt nice to hold onto someone else. If I focused on other things then maybe the horror I felt from this nightmare or memory would retreat back into my brain. I wasn’t going to kill the memory, per se, but I just wanted a break.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. Just … I don’t know … distract me.”

“Pardon?”

“Distract me. Tell me something…anything. Don’t let me think about … things for a while. I feel like I’ve just watched a horror movie, and I need something to bleach my brain.”

His long fingers combed through my hair gently untangling the snarls. Elliott spoke in a calm but impassioned tone that he often reserved for when he was reading aloud to me, so I closed my eyes and listened.

“How do I love you? Let me count the ways. I love you to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight for the ends of being and ideal grace. I love you to the level of every day’s most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love you freely, as men strive for right. I love you purely, as they turn from praise. I love you with the passions put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love you with a love I seem to lose with my lost saints. I love you with the broth, smile, tears, of all my life; and, if Yoba chooses, I shall but love you better after death.”

“Don’t say that.” I snapped.

I jerked my face up to look at him. He withdrew his hand from my hair like I had shocked him.

“W-what? What did I say? I’m sorry, love. I was reciting an old sonnet. Nothing more. It’s by Elizabeth —“ He snapped his fingers trying to remember her name. “— Elizabeth Barrett Browning, yes that’s it. Did I say something wrong?”

I exhaled wearily and gently guided Elliott’s hand back to my hair. “No … sorry. It just reminded me of …” I swallowed and as the cold paralytic fear crept back into the forefront of my mind. “Just never talk about dying. Not in poetry. Not in real life. I just can’t entertain that idea right now.”

Elliott wrapped me in a hug. “One thousand horses would have to tear me away from you Morgan. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

I nodded in satisfaction. “Okay.”

By now, the morning sun had risen high enough to bathe the bedroom in light. Elliott’s brown eyes looked golden in the sun and it colored his skin bronze. My fingers lightly stroked his angular jaw and he kissed my thumb.

“You’re beautiful.” I murmured.

Rather than blowing off my compliment, he smiled in appreciation and inclined his head in thanks. “And you look just as resplendent in the morning sun, my dear.” His fingers carded through my hair and he held up a few strands against the sunlight. “Your hair looks like finely spun gold, and your lovely blue-hazel eyes remind me of the sea in the summer. If I looked hard enough off Willy’s dock, I could see the swirling seaweed waving in the tidal current. Did you know that blue is my favorite color?”

“Hmm. I thought green would be your favorite color, or maybe red, since you wear those colors so much.”

He chuckled and kissed my forehead. “I wear those clothes mostly because I have little else that is suitable for the cold climate.” Then he added as though this was an afterthought, “And I happen to like how I look in that red jacket.”

I nodded, “You always look so put together.”

He sighed and a self-conscious look crossed his face. “I hope you don’t think I’m too vain. Everyone in Pelican Town seems to appreciate comfort over style and I’m often overdressed for most occasions here.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look good.” I remarked. “In fact, although your parents’ anniversary party started out a little tense, I really liked getting dressed up and attending a function that was fancy. With Mom working all the time and with my Grandfather being…well…a farmer, I’ve never had a chance to go to places like that. I didn’t even go to my own high school prom.”

“You didn’t?” He asked.

“No. I felt bad asking Mom to buy me a dress. She would’ve done it but the money could’ve been better spent elsewhere. I spent prom night parked in an abandoned lot outside the neighborhood Joja Mart hanging with Brandon and some mutual acquaintances. I played it off as I was too cool to go to prom, but sometimes I wondered if I missed out.”

“Let me take you out.”

Like an idiot I asked, “Out where?”  
  
“On a date! A proper date. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate Gus’s hospitality but there are some great places in Zuzu City. There’s an art museum, two theaters, an assortment of live music, and more than a dozen fine dining restaurants and cocktail lounges.”

“You don’t need to do —“

He cocked an eyebrow at me and narrowed his eyes, “Yes I do.” He said firmly. “You’re my girlfriend and I’ve yet to take you on a date that isn’t within walking distance to the farm.”

I don’t know why I felt uncomfortable about the idea. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go on a date with Elliott. I absolutely did! It was the idea that someone, no not someone…another man, was spending money on me. The idea filled me with panic and I don’t know why.

“Morgan, you’ve let me stay with you rent-free since November because you won’t accept money from me. I try to pull my weight around here, but I don’t want to feel like I’m mooching off of you. You had an outstanding farming year so we aren’t starving and aside from buying some odds and ends at Pierre’s, I’ve contributed very little to this household. I want to do this. Not out of obligation but because you deserve to have a night where money isn’t on your mind.”

He looked at me with such laser-eyed intensity that I couldn’t fully meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry.” I said with a sigh. “I’m just not use to this sort of thing.”

I met his gaze and licked my lips. “Not to bring up the past but Brandon and I never went on dates. His idea of a date was watching gridball or playing pool at the corner dive bar with his friends while I played those touch-screen bar games and drank cheap beer or rail cocktails.”

Elliott’s jaw clenched and he looked aghast. “Morgan, I’m not a typically violent person but if I ever meet this Brandon guy I might punch him in the nose.”

I chuckled. “You’ll never meet him. After our last disastrous encounter, it is pretty clear that we are never speaking again. I deleted him from my phone. I told my mom that I never want his name mentioned in my presence ever again. That was the past.”

“Exactly.” Elliott urged. “That was the past. Do you remember what I told you when you were in the hospital?”

I looked guilty. “Sort of? Truth be told, my entire time in the hospital is kinda a weird blur in my mind.

“I said that you are the hardest working person I know and that you deserve to be taken care of. Let me take care of you. Let me woo you.”

Elliott’s hands cupped either side of my head and he gently kissed me. The gesture was so damn tender and endearing that I hummed in contented pleasure.

“Where should we go?” I asked breathier than I intended.

“Let me plan that.” He said. “What is your favorite food?”

“Salmon.” I answered. “Well…I like any seafood except for oysters or squid, but salmon is my favorite.”

Elliott beamed. “Seafood it is. Have you ever seen a live stage production? Like a play or a musical?”

I shook my head. “Not unless you count being Scarecrow #2 in my elementary school’s Agricultural Day skit.”

His smile radiated out and I smiled too. Elliott’s happiness was contagious. “Would you like to see a play?”

“Sure. Which play?”

“I don’t know yet. I need to look online and see which shows are playing, but I’ll choose one I think you’ll like. Back when we first met, you told me you like stories about romance and drama. I’ll try to find us a romantic comedy or something of the sort.”

My stomach fluttered with excited nerves. I was actually starting to like this idea.

“I’ll put up with anything as long as I’m with you.”

Elliott kissed me again and I could almost taste his excitement. “Good. Now, don’t worry about a thing. We’ll go tomorrow and catch a Thursday matinee and have a lovely dinner after the show.”

I sighed, “And you’re sure this is fine? This could add up to a lot of gold.”

“Absolutely.” He insisted. “Although my royalty checks have tapered off, I don’t have very many expenses and I still have some gold saved from my first book’s profits. Trust me. This one night out won’t bankrupt me.”

I honestly had no words. People like Elliott, people who are generous, selfless, and compassionate, were rare. Day after day, I fell in love with this man even more.

“Thank you.” I murmured.

Elliott pulled me into his chest and I settled in for one more hour of sleep. 

* * *

By mid afternoon, Elliott walked with me up to the mountain lake. While I slept, Elliott let the animals out into the pasture and took care of the barn chores. He got a good look at Stella’s calf and suggested a gender-neutral name since we still couldn’t determine the cow’s sex.

“How about the name Scout?” He suggested.

“Scout?” The name sounded familiar for some reason.

“In _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , Scout was a rambunctious and independent young girl, so if the cow is a female, the name lends well to a strong-willed animal. If the cow is a boy, the name still works because a scout is simply “one who seeks or searches” which works for a boy or a girl."

“Stella and Scout.” I repeated. I liked the sound of it.

Elliott’s smile had an air of pride, “Plus there’s lovely alliteration there.”

“See? That’s why I asked for your help. You are far more creative than me.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s true, my dear. You and I are creative in different ways. You are a creative thinker and problem-solver. Things like gardening and fishing come to you like it is an art form all your own.”

Just then, we had arrived at the mouth of the spring-fed lake and I let go of Elliott’s hand. “So…I’ll see you later tonight. I don’t know how long this is going to take, but I’ll just have Marlon walk with me back to the farm.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. Although I enjoyed spending time with Elliott, him walking me up here was more out of concern for my well-being than him trying to be overly gallant and polite. If I had another episode and collapsed, it could be hours before anyone came across my body. The thought alone left me with enough anxiety to allow Elliott to pseudo-babysit me.

“Okay.” He said. “I’m going to swing by the library to get things ready for tomorrow’s date night and then I’ll head on back to the farm. I still have to pack, and I’d rather not worry about it tomorrow night.”

My heart tightened a little. Elliott’s train left Friday morning so he had time to stop by campus and check in at the workshop before Monday’s seminars and classes. I was excited for him, but six weeks was a long time — it was the longest that we had been apart since we started dating — and I could already feel myself missing him.

Elliott sensed my distress and he pulled me into a hug. “Hey. I’ll be back before you know it. With the spring planting and fishing season, you’ll probably be so busy that time will fly by.”

I nodded. “I know. Really, I’m fine. I’m excited for you. I really think this writing seminar will open a few more doors for you.”

He smiled and then sighed. “You’re amazing Morgan.”

I half-chuckled and half-scoffed. “Thanks. I should probably go. Marlon doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

Elliott kissed me good-bye and I walked across the footbridge, past the town mine, and knocked on the scuffed wooden door outside the Adventurer's Guild.

The door cracked open and someone other than Marlon answered.

“Hello?”

The man’s face was shrouded in harsh shadows but he looked to be in his early fifties. His wispy sandy-blond hair was peppered with grey. He sported a substantial five o-clock shadow and his grey-blue eyes looked exhausted.

“Uh — is — is Marlon there? I was supposed to meet him today.”

“Let her in Henry.” Marlon’s voice called from inside the cabin.

At the mention of his name, my expression hardened and I looked back at the man’s face. He dropped his gaze as shame and anxiety fought for dominance in his expression.

“Henry.” I repeated like the name had a bad taste on my tongue. “You called me yesterday morning.”

“I did.” He replied. “Come on in. We have a lot to discuss.”

I slipped by Henry and entered into the warm, sweet-smelling cabin. A kettle hung over the fire and Gil was in his rocking chair with a mug full of black coffee. The liquid in the kettle smelled cloying and artificially sweet, almost medical. Whatever was in there, it was definitely not coffee.

“Have a seat Morgan.” Marlon said. “Would you like some coffee?”

I nodded absent-mindedly. “Uh…what’s in the kettle?”

He smiled, “Mulled wine." The tone of his voice rang hollow. "Would you like cream or sugar?”

I shook my head and accepted the black coffee. Then I sought out a low stool that was in the corner and collapsed onto it. Henry moved as though he was going to reach out and catch me should I fall, but then he jerked back his hands like I had burned him. Simply being in Marlon’s cabin was making me light-headed and I didn’t know if it was me or the heady mystery concoction boiling over the fire.

Henry watched me intently. His gaze looked feral; he didn’t look dangerous or anything, but there was an animalistic rawness about his features that struck me.

“You’re remembering more.” He stated. “You had a memory last night, didn’t you?”

“How did you know that?” I asked.

Henry didn’t answer me. I noticed that he tried to not make eye contact with me at all, so out of spite, I just studied him like a person would study an exotic animal at a zoo.

In the dim lamplight, I realized that Henry and I shared more physical similarities than Mom and I did. We had the same thick eyebrows (although his were peppered with grey) and our jaws were rounder which gave us a youthful look. I finally realized where my large ears came from, and I noticed that we had the same shape to our eyes.

My mental math didn’t add up once I took in the rest of his face. Based on my age, Henry couldn’t have been any older than 43 or 44 years old. Yet, the crows feet that tinged his eyes and the deep lines in his mouth were more from a hard-lived life than actual marks of time. Small scars peppered his face. He had two larger scars that ran from his nose down to his left cheek. It looked like something had raked its claws across his face.

“We look related.” I murmured and then I clarified. “I look more like you than I look like Mom.”

He snorted. “I’m sorry about that.”

I think he meant that as a joke but I didn’t hear the humor in his tone.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

Marlon cleared his throat, “He was coming to see me.”

But the way he said it told me that he was lying. He sort of choked on the words and Henry shifted uneasily in his seat.  
  
Marlon handed Henry a mug of the ‘mulled wine.’ The red viscous liquid left a visible stain against the white ceramic, similar to how red fruit juice could stain plastic cups if left in one for too long.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on with me?” I snapped. “You both are clearly hiding something, and I’m tired of being left in the dark!”

Henry sighed, took a drink from his cup, and then nodded gravely. “I’m sorry Morgan. You’re right.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll tell you everything that I know. It’s a long story so bare with me.”

His voice sounded like the gentle rumble of an oncoming storm. I drank my coffee and stared into the crackling fireplace as my father told me everything.

“You were about to turn six when it all happened. According to the old traditions, the first milestone for a child was making it to his or her sixth birthday. It was a celebration born out of necessity at first because very few children grew to adulthood generations ago. Now that we live in modern times, a child’s sixth birthday is looked more as a mark of progression from toddler into a child. On the night you were taken from us, your grandfather was planning a special birthday party while your Mom and I were working. I worked with Marlon doing odd jobs and completing extermination contracts in the mines and your mother did factory work outside of Zuzu City. But even with your grandparents’ generosity, we were barely getting by. You have to understand, we were both teenagers when you were born and we had no idea the hard road that was ahead of us.”

My throat constricted so I tried to force some coffee down hoping the heat would help me relax and calm down. It didn’t and all I could do was nod and gesture for Henry to continue.

“There’s also something you need to understand about my side of the family.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you know about forest magic and the Junimos?” He asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing. This is the first time that I’ve heard the word ‘Junimos’ before.”

Henry nodded, “But you have seen them. Marlon says that you saw one yesterday on the farm.”

Marlon got off of the chest that he was sitting on, opened it, and pulled out a folded white cloth. The fabric was made of finely woven cotton or muslin and time had aged the fabric so the edges had frayed and turned a light brown. Marlon gently opened the folds and held out a picture done in cross-stitch of an apple-sized creature with black spidery legs beneath its bulbous body. The Junimo in this picture was a lime green color and red, orange, and yellow autumnal leaves were stitched around it.

“My first wife made this to pass on to her first-born granddaughter.” Marlon replied.

I cocked my head. “Your first wife? What was her name?”

The older man’s smile turned melancholic, “Her name was Ulrike but we all called her ‘Erica.’ She was a first-generation immigrant here after her country was torn apart by the war. She brought with her the culture of the Old World and little else but the clothes on her back.”

I wracked my brain for any memories of her but nothing came to mind. “Why don’t I remember her?”

“You wouldn’t remember her.” Marlon replied. “She passed before you were born.”

My mind spun with all of this new information. “I — I thought you married my Grandmother’s sister, and that you were my Great Uncle.”

“I am and I did. I’m also your paternal grandfather. Things get confusing when you’re in a small town and all.” He chuckled. “Erica, Henry’s mother, was my first wife. Henry was six when she died. It was hard on the both of us. Henry needed a mother and I couldn’t raise the boy alone while meeting the town’s demand for raw ore and materials in the mines. Adolph set me up with his sister-in-law and when I came by the farm to court her, Diane and Henry would play together.”

Jas and Vincent’s close-knit but tumultuous relationship came to mind and I looked at Henry with a thoughtful expression. Yoba, it was eerie how history had a way of repeating itself.

“So how does this relate to me?” I asked.

Henry took the cross-stitched fabric from Marlon and gently fingered the frayed edges. The gesture was both terribly sad and loving. “My mother’s belief in the forest gods didn’t sit well with many people in town. She converted to the Sign of the Vessel if only to appease the more old-fashioned folks, but privately, she worshiped the old gods. She worshiped the forest.”

“Like the Junimos?”

Henry nodded. “Yes, among others. How was the farm last year?”

“I beg your pardon?” Yoba, I was getting whiplash by these abrupt jumps off topic.

He folded up the fabric and passed it back to Marlon. “The word around town is that the new farmer was quite the up-and-comer last year.”

“Yeah…so what?” I said defensively. “I had a great season I guess. I had plenty of produce to sell, I didn’t starve like many assumed I would, and I made enough of a profit to add a couple more things to the farm.”

“And you didn’t think that was suspicious?” Henry asked. I could tell in his tone that he was trying to be tactful, but I was starting to get offended.

“What are you trying to say?”

Marlon cleared his throat and stepped in. “Erica is a descendant in a long line of people who have been blessed by the forest spirits. She passed this blessing on to Henry and he passed it on to you.”

“Blessing?” I echoed.

Marlon held out his palm and teetered it from side to side. “Well…some call it a blessing, others call it a gift, and some might even claim that it is a special power bestowed to them by the gods.”

Henry interjected, “Morgan, people like us have a natural affinity with nature. Plants flourish beneath our touch. Animals tend to behave well in our presence. Our connection to the land and our connection to the Junimos are symbiotic in a way. We supply the Junimos with offerings and in turn they protect us from evil.”

I blinked at him. “So I was only successful last year because I was given a mystical power by some forest gods?”

“No!” Henry's expression tightened. “It’s not quite like that. Anyone can be successful if they work hard at it, as you have, but things like disease, illness, and random acts of nature rarely happen to ourselves, our livestock, or our produce. Consider this magic similar to the forces that create musical prodigies. Anyone can become a master at an instrument with enough practice, but it takes a prodigy to really feel and understand the music. You and I, and my late mother, we can feel the underlying currents in nature if we just listen.”

I was silent for a long moment and then a nervous giggle bubbled in my gut that soon turned into a rolling, guttural, and slightly insane cackle.

“Morgan?” Marlon began.

I shook my head and kept laughing. “You’re insane. You both are insane. This is crazy! Are you both high? What is this?”

“I know how this sounds.” Henry replied. “I was just as skeptical about it when Marlon told me. But it’s important that you know this because the Swamp Witch has tried to get a hold of people like us for centuries. I tried to protect you. Your mother tried to protect you.”

My laughter abruptly stopped, and I felt like someone had sucked all of the air out of the cabin. The entire place grew cold and all I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears.

“ _You_ tried to protect me by robbing me of my memories! How is that protecting me!”

I stood from my seat and knocked it over in my haste. My half-full coffee spilled across the floor but I paid it no notice. My hands were balled into fists. Henry stood too and he had his palms facing outward in surrender.

“I know. You have every right to be angry.” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry Morgan. I can’t take back what has happened. I can only try to help you deal with everything just like my father has helped me.”

“What does the Swamp Witch want from me?” I growled.

Marlon and Henry exchanged nervous glances. Then I heard the older man murmur, “She deserves to know, son.”

My father looked weary and he sat back down in his chair. I remained standing and crossed my arms over my chest just so I could do something with my hands.

“Our universe requires balance: light and dark, good and evil, humans and monsters, and the Swamp Witch wants to corrupt that balance, unfairly tipping the scales in her favor by kidnapping people like us.”

“Like us? You were kidnapped, too?”

Henry stared at the scuffed cabin floor. “I know what you’re going through Morgan. I was six years old when the witch first brought me to her swamp. She wanted to corrupt me and my connection to the land to change the world into whatever she wanted. If she could corrupt me, then I could go forth and spread corruption through the town. I could start a new plague, a new famine. I was made into a weapon and my mother paid for my freedom with her life.”

“What?” I breathed.

Henry’s eyes were red-rimmed and glistening in the kerosene lamplight. His irises had a yellow tint and his eyes had gone slightly bloodshot.

“Morgan!” Marlon’s voice was sharp and I glanced over at him. “Come to me. Now!”

I immediately obeyed. Henry’s hands were trembling like an addict going through withdrawals.

“What’s happening to him?” I asked in alarm.

Henry choked and a bestial rasp tore from his throat. He grabbed the mug and downed the rest of its contents. Maroon liquid stained his chin as it dribbled down his face like blood.

“Get out of here Morgan.” Marlon snapped.

“W-what?”

“Go!” He snarled at me. “I’ll be right behind you. Gil help me restrain him!”

The smaller man hopped off his rocking chair moving far quicker than a man his size or age had any right to. He reached in the corner by the hearth and pulled out a length of iron chain. The mug Henry was holding shattered and ceramic shards littered the floor. His hands had grown monstrous and black-tipped nails emerged from each finger like claws. As Marlon and Gill quickly wrapped him in the iron chain, I sidestepped past them and ran for the door. When I looked back, I saw Henry trying to rise out of his seat. His face was no longer human. Bull-like horns had grown out of his head just above his ears and his skin had turned into a tan pelt with thick, curly fur. His ears were long and pointed like that of a giant bat and his hair had grown into a thick mane of silver-grey coarse fur.

He bellowed which shook the cabin like an earthquake. I was petrified in fear and my legs were stuck to the floor. Marlon whipped the chain around Henry’s hulking form like he was practicing to be a lion tamer at the circus. Gil tried to secure the other side of the chain and slap a padlock on both ends but Henry shook them off like they were overly-annoying gnats buzzing around his head. Then he turned his head and saw me. His bovine-like snout twitched as he scented the air and his golden and bloodshot red eyes landed on me.

“Get out of here Morgan!” Marlon yelled.

Gil got up to his feet, grabbed an innocuous-looking staff by the fireplace and thrusted it away from his body. Doing that sent a force of wind in my direction that literally blew the cabin door open and blew me back outside. I landed on my back gasping for breath. The cabin door slammed shut as easily as Gil had blown it open, and I laid in the grass dazed and confused by everything I had just witnessed.

There were no sounds that came from the cabin, no bestial roars or panicked cries, just deafening silence. There was no way this was real. I always assumed that my father was some sort of monster for leaving me. I hated him for so long, and yet, I was not only right — my father _was_ a monster — but I realized that I hated him for the wrong reasons. Maybe I didn’t hate him at all. I pitied him.

I sat up and took stock of myself. I wasn’t injured aside for having a sore back. I felt okay considering everything that had just happened.

Just then, Marlon slipped out of the cabin. His green tunic was scratched at the shoulder and his lip looked to be swollen, but otherwise he seemed fine.

“What the hell just happened?” I asked. “Where’s Gil?”

He’s locking Henry in the basement cellar until he can come to his senses again. The potion I gave him was supposed to delay the change for at least an hour on account of your visit, but clearly, it didn’t work.

He sighed, and offered me his hand, and helped me to my feet.

“You hurt?” He grunted.

I shook my head, “You?”

“Just a few more scratches to add to my collection. It’s nothing serious. Let me walk you back to the farm. I’m sure our discussion today gave you more questions than it did answers.”

I nodded. “You’re damn right about that.”

Marlon held out his arm and I took it. We slowly walked across the wooden footbridge and down the hill that led to Robin’s house and the road back home. I didn’t know how to exactly ask my question so I just said the first words that came to mind.

“What is wrong with Henry? Is he like…a werewolf or something?”

Marlon rubbed his chin and was silent for a moment. “Not exactly. The term that most people are familiar with is minotaur. He takes that form when he stays in the valley for too long. I thought I could postpone it but it's harder for him to fight the curse now that he's getting older."

"So he turns into that ... thing ... because of his own curse?" I asked. "What does that accomplish? Is he suppose to -- I don't know -- serve the Swamp Witch or something."

Marlon nodded. "Yes. That's exactly right. It was part of the deal that he made to save you. He exchanged his life and his freedom for yours and bound himself to the Swamp Witch's service ever since. Of course, he had no intention of honoring the deal and that's why the curse forces him to change."

“Wait...you said he did this to save me. I still don’t understand. What was he saving me from?”

Marlon slowed down and turned to look at me. “Morgan, you were taken as a child to become a vessel of corruption for the Swamp Witch’s evil purposes just like Henry. But in my son's case, Erica’s sacrifice purified the curse from my son. In order for your mother to keep her life, he struck up a deal with the witch and took the curse upon himself. The curse that afflicts him now was meant for you.”

My eyes widened in horror. “So you're saying that I was supposed to become a minotaur or something?”

Marlon shrugged. “I don’t know what you would’ve become. The corruption attaches itself to a host like a parasite and changes them to suit the witch's purpose. You could've become a creature that now haunts the mines. You could've been turned into stone until the witch had use for you. When she kidnapped you, the corruption had already taken hold and so my son did the only thing he could think of and made a bargain with the Witch. Because she wanted him so long ago when he was a boy, he offered himself in your place.”

I swallowed and trembled against his arm. “And what happened?”

Marlon’s face was grave. “He entered into a blood pact with the witch and he transformed into that monstrosity right in front of you. You were traumatized for months. You wouldn’t talk after that. You never left the farm. You didn't eat and you barely slept. Your mother thought you’d waste away right in front of her and so she went back to the witch one last time and entered into her own bargain."

My heart sped up and I grasped onto Marlon’s hand for dear life. “What did she trade to take away my memories?”

Marlon’s grey eyes bore into mine. “Another life.”

“Whose!”

He looked tortured. “Her own. Once you regain all of your lost memories, your mother will die.”


	5. Releasing Tension (M+)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan processes through some events and internalizes others. Meanwhile, Elliott calms her down with a relaxing massage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that some readers might not enjoy a chapter that tip toes the line between story-driven intimacy and outright smut, so if you aren’t a fan of sexually explicit scenes, feel free to ignore this one and skip to Chapter 6 once I release it. You won’t be missing much in terms of major plot points since I originally had this scene and Chapter 6 together. I decided to split it due to pacing and abrupt tonal shifts.
> 
> But if you are a fan of the more lustier stuff, then welcome! I love exploring Elliott and Morgan as a couple, and sex sometimes comes along with that exploration. I’m aware that I made this story M-rated instead of E-rated. I did that because I don't think any of these sex scenes dip too far into pure smut, but just know that this chapter is spicier than most.

Chapter 5 — Releasing Tension (Rated M+)

March 3rd (Spring)

Warmth radiated through the cabin’s front door when I climbed the stars to the stoop. When I opened the door, the heat wave from the roaring fireplace nearly knocked me over. It didn’t feel unpleasant, but the sharp contrast in temperature made me aware that I was freezing even if I couldn’t feel it.

“Morgan? Is that you?” Elliott called out from the bedroom.

“Yeah.” I replied in a neutral tone. “I’m home.”

“Did you eat dinner yet?” He called back.

“No. Not yet.” Truthfully I wasn’t hungry. I could hardly think of food right now. My stomach was writhing from the tension and the anxiety leftover from today. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Okay.” Elliott replied after a momentary pause. He didn’t say anything else, and I couldn’t tell if he was just too engrossed in his work or if something I had said made him suspicious.

It didn’t really matter anyways. I needed to think through things before I could bare to talk it out with Elliott.

I undressed and put my towel on the rack near the shower. Within a half a minute, the steam filled the small bathroom in a dense fog. I carefully stepped into the upright shower and let everything that had happened today wash over me.

A mere four days ago, I was just a former city girl turned farmer who was looking forward to another busy season on the farm. I had normal things to worry about like paying bills and caring for my animals. Hell, the biggest stressor on my mind three days ago was preparing the garden for the spring seeds once the frost let up. But now?

Now? Now I felt so lost. I thought I knew myself. I thought I knew my family and the people who were important to me but apparently I had only scratched the surface. I just had to wait for the truth to unfold as my memories returned one agonizing moment at a time.

Damn it. I couldn’t stomach even thinking about curses or witches right now. I just wanted to be Morgan the farmer. I never wanted any of this!

I slapped the shower wall in frustration. “Fuck!”

My hand tingled from my outburst so I channeled my angst into washing my body. The pressure from the warm water pounded the tense muscles in my back and shoulders but it didn’t have the relaxing effect that I would’ve hoped. I just felt more keyed up.

Another thing on my mind was that Elliott was due to leave in a couple of days which was a double-edged sword. It was mostly good because he’d finally get that creative fulfillment that he’s been searching for. And if he wasn’t in town, then he’d be safe from all of the weirdness that was intruding in on my life. Then again, six weeks was a long time. Living together through the winter was a challenge, but we both grew to appreciate each other’s company. I couldn’t imagine what the cabin would feel like without him.

As I mulled over my laundry list of worries, I shampooed my hair and added in a little conditioner. Then I shut off the water, stepped out of the shower, and spent a good ten minutes trying to dry my hair. Elliott’s hair was longer but I had thicker hair and it soaked in water like a sponge.

I caught a look at myself in the mirror. My hair hung around my face in damp clumps which highlighted just how exhausted I looked. I had bags beneath my eyes which looked even worse now that the shower had washed off the concealer I used to try and hide them.

Ugg. I was a mess.

I wrapped the towel around me. The cold cabin air mingled with the humid steam and the sensation made me breathless. The main downside about living in a cabin without central heating was that the hallway right outside the bathroom was freezing cold nine months out of the year.

When I walked through the kitchen and into the living room, I saw Elliott reading on the couch. He propped his back against the arm rest so his long legs could sprawl out. His hair was bound back with a small clear hair tie at the base of his neck and a pencil sat behind his ear. I liked his hair pulled back. It made him look aristocratic and smart. I stifled a sigh. Elliott always looked handsome. Even while wearing sweatpants.

I felt the heat of his gaze on my back when I passed by, and my heart fluttered when I heard Elliott’s breathing deepen. I felt a little vulnerable in my nakedness but I also felt powerful. I knew that Elliott would follow me into the bedroom. The woman in me wanted Elliott to gently remove my towel and feast on my body, but my rational mature brain reminded me that I didn’t have time to play around.

My mother’s life was at risk. My estranged biological father just turned into a massive bull beast before my eyes. A witch was after me and I could start remembering things at any moment and go into some sort of fit. And my grandpa — No — Nope — You’re spiraling Morgan. Get it together.

When I walked into the bedroom, I heard Elliott close his book and set it on the coffee table. He followed me into the bedroom, went over to his side of the bed, knelt down, and pulled out a second book and set it on his nightstand.

“How was your day, love?” He asked casually.

“Bad.” I replied. “What about you?”

I turned my back to him, unwrapped my towel, and tilted my head down so my hair spilled over and I vigorously dried it.

“It was a pretty standard day.” He remarked. “I finished reading through the student-submitted periodical that the college sent. I did some outlining on another story idea and I wrote a fair amount on my current project.”

“Is it still that noir crime novel that you read to me back in September?”

“No.” He replied with an air of regret. “I’m putting that one aside for now. Maybe I’ll come back to it later. The muses weren’t as kind to me and I got stuck in a rut. I’ve been working on a new project since December. I plan to bring this project with me to the writing workshop for feedback and ideas.”

I felt the mattress shift behind me as Elliott climbed onto the bed and moved towards me. My stomach tightened in anticipation. Yoba, I loved how he could make me feel giddy and love drunk just by being near me.

“Well it sounds like you had a good day.” I said more breathy than I intended. I wrapped the towel back around my body and I tucked in the ends.

Elliott was right behind me then. His warm hands gathered up my damp wavy hair and he ran his fingers from the front of my skull to the base of my head ruffling out my hair. My body involuntarily shivered in pleasure and I sat in front of him on the bed.

“Would you like help brushing out your hair?” He murmured. “You have a few tangles in the back.”

I was so glad that he couldn’t see my face because I could’ve sworn that my eyelids fluttered a little as I got a small amount of pleasure from his words alone.

“Sure.” I replied breathily and I handed him my comb and brush.

He set to work combing the ends of my hair while using his other hand to keep from tugging to hard on the ends. My mouth parted a little and my eyelids drooped as Elliott’s gentle touch turned my stomach to warm goo.

“If you ever get stuck with your writing, you could become a part-time hairdresser.” I half-teased. “You’re good at this.”

I heard the smile in his voice, “I just know first hand how much upkeep long hair requires. I wanted to make your routine a little easier for you.”

“Thanks.” I replied. “It’s been a rough day.”

He combed his fingers through the ends to check for any other tangles and then he grabbed my brush and used the same technique of starting at the ends and working up towards my scalp.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

I sighed. “No. Not really. I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help. A lot that happened today and I don’t want to go into it now. I’m just mentally drained. And sore. And exhausted.”

I leaned back against him and I craned my head back to look up into his eyes. “Thanks for helping me untangle my hair.”

“Of course.” Then he brushed my hair over my left shoulder and kissed my exposed neck. His hands ran up my arms and then he worked his thumbs into my shoulders which pulled a keening whine from somewhere in my chest.

“Ah…you don’t have to do that.” I whispered and I caught his hands.

“Why not?” He answered. His fingers interlaced with mine. “Do you not like it?”

“No it’s not that. It feels amazing. I just —“ I didn’t know how to say that I had never received a massage from any other person in my life. Not from my ex, not from a professional, no one.

Elliott slid off the bed so he could sit next to me. “You have a lot going on in your life right now. I’d love to help you relax in any way that I can. Now there’s a difference between asking me to stop touching you because you don’t like it and asking me to stop touching you because you don’t think you deserve it. Be honest with me. Which is it really?”

He had me there.

I sighed. “It’s the second one.”

He nodded, clearly expecting that answer, and interlaced his fingers with mine so our palms were touching. “Morgan, may I please give you a massage?”

“I might fall asleep on you.” I warned him.

“That’s alright. You haven’t been sleeping well.”

I met his eyes and bit back a grin. “Or I just might get super horny.”

“I wouldn’t mind that either.” He said.

My stomach clenched in anticipation and I pressed my thighs together already fantasizing about how his hands would feel on my body. Yoba, I was already getting off on this idea and he hadn’t even touched me for more than a few seconds.

“Alright fine.” I said breathily. “You can give me a massage if you want.”

“Thank you.” He replied and then he kissed my temple. “Do you like lotion?”

“Only if it is unscented. I’m allergic to most of the scented cheap stuff.”

He reached over on his nightstand and showed me a small white pump bottle. It was store brand and it was the kind that I sometimes used. I nodded and he pumped a small amount into his palm and rubbed his hands together.

He settled himself behind me and I moved my hairbrush and comb to my dresser so they were out of the way.

Elliott’s hands were warm and the sensation of his fingers sliding across my skin felt both tender and erotic. He ran his thumbs along my shoulder blades as he applied pressure to my neck and shoulders. He massaged at the top of my spine and worked down my neck and then stopped right between my shoulder blades. He moved deliberately and with a steady rhythm. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift away. It felt like ocean waves were crashing against me as he fell into a natural rhythmic motion. It felt good. It felt so damn good. Elliott leaned down and kissed my neck as his hands shifted to my mid back.

“Is this okay?” He asked.

I turned my head and reached up to cup the back of his head with my right arm. I kissed him. My tongue caressed across his and he tasted sweet and warm. When we broke apart, the gentle glow from my bedside lamp made his eyes glint with gold.

“I’ll take that as a yes then?”

“It feels amazing.” I said.

I suddenly felt very overdressed even though I was only in a towel. Elliott caught on and he gently peeled the towel off me and gestured to the bed. “I’ll spread this beneath you and you can lie down on your stomach. That way I can get your lower back and legs.”

I did as he asked. Yoba, it was a good thing he suggested that we would put the towel down. I could feel my own wetness against my inner thighs. I didn’t even know that I could get this turned on.

“Let your arms rest at your sides or you can rest them in front of you beneath the pillow. I’m going to part your legs a little so I can kneel over you.”

My mind swam with a peaceful and lazy sort of pleasure. He could’ve told me to do anything at that moment and I would’ve readily agreed.

Elliott added a little more lotion to his hands and he worked across my ribs and down my lower back. He got to the top of my ass and I felt myself blush. I don’t know why I felt bashful. Maybe it was because we weren’t actively engaging in sex, or maybe it was because his hands were so close more sensitive places on my body, but my skin tingled with anticipation.

“Is this alright?” He asked.

I nodded. “Don’t stop.”

He applied more lotion to his hands and worked the sides of my hips and hamstrings. He ran his knuckles to where my hamstrings and glutes met and I bucked up against his hands. The sound I made was guttural and obviously sexual. My head spun and propped myself up on my forearms.

“That’s a sensitive spot apparently.” I said and I felt my blush extend all the way up to my forehead.

Elliott made a noise that sounded like a mix between a sigh and a purr. I thought he’d tactfully move away from that spot and massage anywhere else, but boy was I wrong.

On his second pass he stiffened his fingers and dragged them along my hamstrings and down towards my inner thighs. I moaned into the pillow. I wanted nothing more than for Elliott to stop and just take me right there, but I also wanted Elliott to keep going. I wanted to see how far this could go. I wanted him to tease me like this some more.

“Is it okay if I spread your legs a little more so I can work on your calves and thighs?”

I looked over my shoulder at him. He looked at me with unwavering love and desire. He removed his shirt at some point during the massage and I was none the wiser. His drawstring sweatpants sat low on his hips and I saw the outline of his own arousal.

“My legs aren’t that sore, but you’re welcome to touch me elsewhere.”

Elliott inhaled sharply. The heat in my voice awoken something within him too.

“Roll over on your back. You were carrying a lot of tension in your shoulders. I’m going to spend a little time focusing but from a different angle.”

I rolled over and spread my legs wide enough so he could see everything. I suppressed the urge to reach down and touch myself. I wanted Elliott’s talented fingers there instead of my own.

Elliott straddled my hips and applied more lotion to his hands. He settled most of his weight on his knees so he wasn’t putting too much pressure on me, but simply feeling his body over mine bumped up my arousal to another level. And he was right, my shoulders were tense so the pleasure that he drew from rubbing the top of my chest and shoulders walked a delicious fine line between pleasure and pain.

“Does that hurt?”

“A little.” I admitted. “But it feels good too.”

A low rumble came from Elliott’s chest and I heard his breathing deepen. “I’m going to work farther down on your chest if that’s okay.”

I smiled, placed my hands over his, and slid his hands down to cup my breasts.

“It’s more than okay. Keep going please.”

His hands cupped my breasts and he ran his thumbs along their valley. Like with my backside and thighs, Elliott’s hands kneaded and worked my chest like he was trying to mold from clay. Occasionally I’d feel his index fingers gently run across my nipples and a lightning bolt of pleasure jolted straight to my core. He did it again but this time he rolled the pebbled flesh between his thumbs and index fingers. The pressure was light. He was merely teasing me and I briefly lamented the fact that the hand lotion he was using wasn’t edible nor did it probably taste good. I wanted his mouth on me.

My eyes fluttered open and I hooked my ankles around Elliott’s waist. I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him into me.

“I need you.” I murmured and then I kissed him.

My tongue laved over his and he groaned into my mouth when my hands dipped into his pants to free his erection. I helped him kick his pants down towards his ankles and then he pulled them off his feet. Now we were both fully naked and I loved every minute of it. .

Elliott broke from the kiss and nipped at my ear lobe before planting slow kisses down my neck. I ran my hand down his length and caressed the sensitive skin near the head. I loved how he felt, a delightful contrast of soft and hard, and I stroked him from base to tip. I ran my thumb along his foreskin and he bucked forward as though I had shocked him.

“Morgan! Love, wait.” He gasped. “Oh Yoba ... hold on. I don’t wanna — its — I’m too close.”

I stopped moving my hand but I didn’t let go of him. I could finish him off here and a small part of me enjoyed the power that I had over him. I mean, I had never had a man spill himself on me before, but I loved Elliott and I was kinda into the idea.

Elliott held onto my shoulders and bowed his head as he breathed deeply for several seconds as he fought down his own climax.

The impish side in me won out. I added my second hand to the mix and gently ran my fingers along his balls. The skin there was soft and delicate. I kept my touch feather light out of fear of hurting him. I don’t think that my touch actually did hurt him but he was so keyed up that he tackled me back onto the bed and held my hands off to my sides. 

"Oh...I like this." I whispered with a sly smile. 

He shuddered when I said that to him.

“Yoba I need you.” He exhaled the words as though they were a confession. “Do you want me to wear a condom, or —“

“— No.” I said. My pulse accelerated as I felt the implication of what I was about to say. “I'm safe and I want you. Just you. Inside me. NOW.”

Elliott tucked his head into the crook of my neck and thrust inside me. My muscles quivered with pent up tension and energy. I was at the top of the first precipice and all it took was one more thrust for me to topple off it.

"Elliott! Oh Elliott!"

“Yes love.” He commanded. “Let me hear you, darling.”

All I saw was white. My back arched and I felt Elliott lifting me up off the bed to settle me in his lap. I ground my hips down grunting like some beast. I was still on the tail end of my climax but I wanted more. I wanted it again. I wanted it now.

My fingers combed through Elliott’s hair and I slipped the hair tie out. I curled my fingers in his russet locks and gently pulled his head up from my shoulder so I could kiss him again. He lightly bit my shoulder and whimpered when I did that.

“You like when I do that?” I asked.

Elliott’s eyes were half-lidded and glassy. He was breathing deep and I saw his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed.

“I love it.” He croaked. “Yoba, you’re so sexy when you’re like this.”

“Like what?”

He continued thrusting into me with powerful, short strokes. His voice caught a little when he replied. “C-confident. Self-ah-assured. Wild. Dominant.”

That last word flipped a switch in my head.

“Then let me be dominant. Let me be on top.” I lifted myself up and immediately missed the warm fullness. “Hurry. I don’t want you out of me for long.”

“Oh Yoba…” I heard Elliott murmur. He dove past me and rolled onto his back.

I climbed on top of him, ran the tip of his sex through my folds which pulled another whine from his chest and sank down his length. His hands gripped my ass and I draped myself over him. I rolled my hips and set a steady but languid pace. My body clenched each time he plunged into me. There was a small spot inside me that sent a punch of pleasure straight to my gut. It was exquisite.

Elliott wrapped his arms round my back and held me tight to his chest. He punctuated each of his thrusts with a low grunt and I knew I was getting close.

I hated to ruin the moment with practical questions, but since we weren’t using a condom, I wanted to give Elliott the option on how he wanted to finish.

“Are you close?” I whispered.

He half-sobbed, “Love, I’ve been close since you started touching me. I’m not going to last — ah —“ He cupped my breast and brushed his thumb across my nipple and then canted his hips up against mine. “May I? Inside?.”

I nodded. “Yes. I want to feel you finish in me.”

“Turn around. That way I can hold you and touch you.” He panted.

“So…doggy style then?”

“No.” Elliott rolled onto his side and I rolled off of him.

He pulled me against him like we were cuddling and guided himself back into me from behind. He slipped his arm beneath my right leg and lightly teased his fingers across my clit. The combination of these sensations had me writhing against him. I had never felt anything like this before.

“Oh shit — ah — holy — Elliott! Ah!” I was babbling now. Elliott’s rolling hips maintained a steady pace but his breathing was labored and his grip on me was firm.

“You feel so damn good.” He growled.

My hands scrambled around to touch something, anything, so I could anchor myself before a second climax swept me away. Elliott grabbed my left hand with his and held me. I knew from that touch alone that he truly loved me, and I squeezed onto his hand as we both orgasmed.

Elliott's cry seemed to reverberate off the cabin walls and I wasn’t too far behind him. I felt a burst of molten heat and a slight pressure as he pulsed inside me. My primal brain seemed to crow in satisfaction. I wanted to take everything that Elliott could give me. I wanted him to fill me totally and completely. He was mine and I was his. I decided that as long as I was on birth control, we'd never bother with condoms again.

He buried his head in the crook of my neck panting like he had just run a race. His breath was hot on my back and shoulders and his fingers trailed down my arm which drew an involuntary shudder from me.

We stayed united together until our breathing evened out and sleep pulled at me just like Elliott said it would. His soft member slid out of me and I was very glad that we had put the towel on the bed. I needed to go and clean up before I fell asleep.

Elliott’s breathing slowed and I wondered whether he had fallen asleep already, but he gently kissed my shoulder and then squeezed me tightly against his chest in an awkward hug.

“Morgan…” His voice was hoarse and thick.

I craned my head to look behind me. Elliott’s hair was a mess (as was my own) but he looked sedate and happy.

“Yeah?” I asked.

He was already falling asleep but trying his best to fight it. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone. Ask the community for help if the farm gets overwhelming. Don’t try and take all of this on alone.”

“Some people in the community are big fat liars.” I joked.

Elliott’s eyes never left mine. “You know what I mean.”

I nodded. “I promise.”

That seemed to put him at ease. He sighed and drew me in for a hug and pulled the covers over us.

“I love you.” I murmured into his chest.

“I love you too.”

We both fell asleep like that. In fact, I didn’t wake up once until Golden jumped on the bed and scratched at my bare leg so I’d feed her.

And better yet…

I didn’t dream.


	6. Visiting Home (Rated T)

Chapter 6 — Visiting Home (Rated T)

March 4th (Spring)

Elliott walked through the cabin tallying a mental list and counting on his fingers. His green rucksack bag sat near the door along with his leather satchel that was filled with papers, books, ink, and pens. I tried not to watch him pack. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy that he was going. I knew this seminar would help him feel fulfilled with his work and expose him to experts who could give him good advice, but I would still miss him.

So I made myself scarce and threw myself into the farm work. The ground frost had finally melted away which meant that I could start preparing the garden for this Spring’s produce. Thanks to the intense snowfall from the winter, there weren't a ton of weeds to pull so that was a blessing in disguise.

I dug out my old scarecrow from the utility shed, stuck it into the ground in the center of my large garden, and filled a wheelbarrow with compost so I could start tilling the land by mixing the depleted soil with the fresh and nutritious stuff.

By mid-morning, I was sweating and gasping for air. Months of winter inactivity had made me out of shape and Yoba was I feeling it. Golden watched me struggle from her perch atop the woodpile. Her yellow eyes were haughty and smug. I grumbled under my breath and swung my hoe into the ground and turned over more dirt. Because I let her run around outside during the winter, the damn cat was in better shape than I was and she knew it!

After six hours of solid work, I put my tools in the shed and kicked my boots on the cabin stoop so I wouldn’t track mud all over the porch. My shoulders were sore, I was sweated through my clothes, and I was hungry enough to devour everything that was in the fridge (which admittedly wasn’t much). With everything going on, we hadn’t had the time to go shopping for dry goods or supplies.

“Yeah. I’ll be coming into Alexandria around two in the afternoon tomorrow. No…no…I can take a cab if Dad can’t come and pick me up. It’s fine. Seriously Mom.” Elliott smiled at me when I came into the cabin. He rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Oh and have you told Dad that yet?”

I opened the refrigerator and took out some turkey lunchmeat and lettuce. I grabbed the bread from above the fridge and I made a couple of basic sandwiches. We were out of milk and cheese (The conflict with the Gotoro Empire had made prices for most dairy products like milk, cheese, and butter go sky high) and I hadn’t caught fish yet. I forgot just how much I relied on the land for my livelihood. The thought was both humbling and anxiety-inducing.

“He might’ve come around since reading my book but you know he’s not going to give me any special favors nor should he.”

I ate my sandwich and tried to not eavesdrop on Elliott’s conversation but he was talking on the phone right in front of me so…

“I’m only going to be there for six weeks Mom! He should hire an intern to help him with his research. You know he only wants my help because he thinks that by imprisoning me in those dusky archives he will finally awaken my passion for archeology.”

I swallowed a grin at Elliott’s sarcasm. Carl responded very well when I sent him my copy of Elliott’s book … but maybe too well. He didn’t have much to say about the literary aspects of Elliott’s work, but he did acknowledge that his son wasn’t just “living in a fantasy world.” However, Carl's appreciation for his son's skill meant that he was being overbearing about pushing Elliott towards the scholarly world instead. 

“Doesn’t it seem a bit like nepotism that my father would rather pay his son to do clerical work when much more qualified and interested undergrads in the Humanities department could co-author with him to get their foot in the door?”

Elliott gave me a suffering look and I had to bite my upper lip so I didn’t crack a smile. I couldn’t help it. He looks so cute and nerdy when he was frustrated.

“Alright Mom. I know.” He sighed. “I love you too.”

He ended the call and sat across from me. He exhaled a long, slow breath and leaned back in the wooden chair.

“What do you think I should do?” He asked. “Should I work with my father part-time while I take this six week seminar? I mean my family is letting me stay at their house and I’ll be able to take the bus to get on campus. The job is a paid position and I could use that money to contribute to the farm. But that would also mean that I’d have to listen to my father’s passive aggressive remarks for five hours a day.”

I couldn’t deny that extra money would go a long way on the farm. Elliott wanted to help out financially and had been a huge help with the animals in the winter. I completely understood the need to feel useful, but did I want Elliott to suffer for it? I was on the receiving end of his father’s pompous and hypercritical judgment and I could hardly stand it for a few hours let alone six weeks.

“What sorts of things would you be writing about and helping him research?”

My father is still cataloguing his studies from the last sabbatical that he took in the Calico Desert. He’ll probably want me to type up his handwritten notes so the data can be saved rather than photocopied. I doubt that I’ll do any real writing. I’m mostly a glorified research assistant.”

I frowned. I did have a good reason for Elliott to take the job but it felt like a really selfish reason.

“So…unrelated but related question: how much would your father know about Junimos?”

“I don’t know.” He replied. “What is a Junimo?”

“According to Henry, Junimos are like forest guardians or something.”

“Wait...Henry? You talked to your father? How did it go?”

I thought back to how my father looked right before he … transformed … into some … some sort of beast. Elliott saw my expression change as I remembered that moment and he took my hand.

“I’m sorry Morgan. Was this what you were talking about last night? You did say that you didn’t want to talk about it.”

I swallowed and shook my head. “No it’s alright. I’m glad I finally met him. I learned some things about my heritage and I want to learn more, but I’m still processing what I know so far. And what I know is this: my father’s side of the family descended from people who were gifted with forest magic. Henry and Marlon explained that forest magic isn’t really like magical powers like it is in fantasy books, it’s more of an affinity with nature. Apparently my paternal grandmother immigrated here from another country and she brought her beliefs with her when she came to Pelican Town.”

"I mean...my father does teach a class about ancient civilizations. Hold on."

Elliott took out his phone and brought up a search engine. He typed in “Junimo + Carl Michaels” into the search engine. I finished my sandwich, set the plate in the sink, and came around behind him to look at the screen.

The pictures at the top of the screen showed a handful of etchings you’d fine in old books depicting the same apple-shaped creature that Henry’s mother had embroidered onto my blanket. One picture in particular looked like a crude painting on a cave wall. The first link in the search engine was his father’s faculty page on the Alexandria State University website. His father’s faculty directory picture was right next to the link.

“Wait…here’s something.” Elliott said. He touched the fourth link which brought up an electronic copy to a Humanities scholarly journal called _The Journal of Human History_. The article in question was indeed written by Dr. Carl Michaels, P.H.D. and it was entitled “Religion and the Decline of Traditional Spiritualism in the Last Two Centuries.”

“Yoba…why?!” Elliott grumbled. He touched the article and a paywall screen popped up. “It’s a so elitist to block the access of information behind a paywall.”

“It’s certainly inconvenient.” I replied.

He bookmarked the link and then put the phone away. “I can see if he has the actual journal in his office. If not, then I know it will be available in the university’s archives.”

I smiled and kissed the top of his head. "And for what it's worth, I think you should take the job with your Dad. I can't deny that he's insufferable, but if there's one thing I learned in these past few days, it's that making memories with your family is important. He might not say it to your face, but I think Carl would appreciate you spending time with him. Getting paid to do it is just an added bonus."

"And I'll be able to help you research more about the Junimos." Elliott replied with a sly and knowing smile. "And I'll be getting paid to do that too."

"As they say, you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if that horse has a tendency to kick you."

He shook his head with a smile. "Point taken. I'll text my Dad and let him know that I'll take the job."

“Thank you.” I replied. “I appreciate it.”

“Speaking of your father, did you learn anything else when you talked with him?"

“Yeah…a lot actually." I caught the time on the small LED screen on the microwave. Crap...time was running away from me. "I can’t tell you right now. I really need to take a quick shower so we can catch the bus to the city.”

Elliott smiled. “Yes. For our date.”

His smile was infectious and I smiled too. “Exactly. I’m already packed so I won’t be long. Once we get on the bus, I’ll tell you a little more.”

“Okay.” he agreed.

I figured that Elliott should know the true reason why I wanted to see my mom. All I told him was that I needed to stop by for a quick visit to get closure after our fight. But now it was more than that. I needed closure but I also needed to really understand why my mother thought she had the right to literally trade her life for my memories. I mean…mothers make sacrifices and I get that, but what about the kind of guilt that I might have to deal with should I accidentally kill her in my desire to know about my past? It wasn’t fair and I needed her to know that.

I just hoped there would be less yelling this time.

* * *

On the bus, I told Elliott everything about the forest spirits, the Junimos, and the trade that my mother made with the Swamp Witch. (God…just acknowledging the existence of a witch was crazy enough for me). Like always, Elliott listened patiently and he didn’t interrupt. He hugged me when I told him my fear that my mother would die and how I felt conflicted in wanting to learn about my past and my heritage. So needless to say, I was already emotionally primed when we approached my mom’s house.  
  
My mom’s house always invoked the nostalgic feeling of being back home. Although she had recently fixed up the modular home with some of the money she and Chuck had set aside, the interior of the house looked exactly the same as I had remembered it. Outside the house, I saw Mom’s recliner in the corner of the room through the blinds. The floral bedsheet that she used as a makeshift protector laid neatly over the chair. She loved that chair — which I found a little strange since my mom rarely sat down at all (she was always full of nervous energy), but when she did finally relax, that chair was hers.

I climbed up the steps that led to the small front porch. The rock garden that we once had when I was a pre-teen was now overgrown with weeds. The lilac bushes that she planted were still barren and dead from the winter, and the iron birdbath that sad outside my old bedroom window was starting to develop green rust down the base. Despite the mid-afternoon sun, the house looked somber and a fresh wave of anxiety gripped my heart.

I turned to Elliott, “So — uh — you met my mom at the hospital that one time, and she was at my birthday celebration at the Saloon, but you’ve never spent extended time with her. She’s … she can be a bit much.”

The corner of Elliott’s eyes crinkled as he tried to suppress a smile. “Is this your way of saying I’m about to be paid back for the circus show that is my family?”

I inhaled through my clenched teeth. “Let’s just say that my mom and I are usually like oil and water. I love her but I’m unbelievably pissed at her. You’re might not see me at my best. That’s all I’m saying.”

Elliott sighed, “Nobody expects you to be at your best right now. You’re dealing with a lot.”

“Thanks.” My tone was hollow and I gave three sharp knocks on the door.

Mom opened it. She was wearing black yoga pants and an aquamarine maternity top that looked both flattering and comfortable. Her short blond hair had grown (probably thanks in part to the prenatal vitamins she was taking) and the slight curl in her hair made her look young and vibrant. If I wasn’t so angry with her, I would’ve told her that she looked radiant.

“Hi Mom.” I said.

Her lips twitched into something that tried to be a smile. Then she sized Elliott up beneath a shrewd and uncompromising gaze.

“Elliott is here for me. I asked him to come.” I said.

Her severe expression faltered somewhat and she nodded. “Come in.” Then she managed a small smile at Elliott, “Welcome to my home.”

“Thank you.” He said.

“Let me take your coats and bags. You can just leave your shoes on the tile by the door.”

Mom’s voice sounded tight and thin. She was clearly upset and trying to hide behind nervous, busy-body energy.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Soda? Wine?” Mom called out from her bedroom.

“No thanks.” I called back. “We won’t be long.”

Elliott and I sat on the loveseat next to my mom’s armchair. The living room had more decorations than it ever had. Ever since we moved to the city, my Mom rarely decorated the house (even for holidays). She was always working and by the time Chuck came into the picture, which allowed her to work less, I was much too old and concerned with my friends to want to help decorate the house for Spirit’s Eve or Winter’s Star.

But now, a couple of pictures of Mom and Chuck sat in dual frames atop the wooden entertainment system. A framed picture of me at my high school graduation sat right next to an old black and white picture of Grandpa when he first bought the farm as a young veteran. As I looked at that picture, I felt the tinges of physical sickness rise up and I worried that I was about to remember another memory. My breath caught in my throat and I grabbed onto Elliott’s hand.

He slid his arm behind my shoulders and drew me closer so we were sitting hip to hip. He kissed my temple and murmured low, “Just breathe. It’ll be okay, love.”

I nodded and composed myself just as Mom closed the door to her bedroom, went into the small kitchen for a bottle of water, and then joined us in the living room. She sat in her recliner with a groan of effort. She held her gravid stomach and rubbed it while murmuring something to the unborn baby. I wonder if Mom ever did that when she was pregnant with me?

“Did you find out the baby’s sex?” I asked.

Her smile was coy, “Don’t you want it to be a surprise?”

I shrugged. “I don’t have a preference, but if you want to keep it to yourself, that’s okay. Stella had her baby the night before last. We’re still trying to determine the cow’s sex but she won’t let us near the calf. I was curious, that’s all.”

Mom sighed, “No hon. It’s alright. Just don’t tell Chuck. He wants it to be a surprise. You know me, I couldn’t wait so I had Chuck step out of the room so the doctor could tell me privately. You’re going to have a baby brother: Ethan Tyler Raymond.”

Huh…I was going to have a baby brother. That was a weird idea for me to grasp. I mean, I was happy to hear the news, but it also didn’t feel like it was real.

“Why Tyler as a middle name?” I asked.

“Well, Chuck wanted Tyler and I wanted Ethan. We compromised by combining the names. Chuck said that since I’m doing most of the ‘heavy-lifting’ — which were his words, not mine — that I should get preference in all baby decisions.” Mom sighed, “He’s such a sweet man.”

Then she cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. “But enough about me. You’re here for a reason so let’s get to it.” She turned in the recliner and reached out for me. I took her hand and I felt a surge of emotion rise up in my throat. “Morgan, I’m so so sorry. If I knew that all of this was about to happen to you, I would’ve —“

“— not lied to me for my entire life?” I finished bitterly.

Her expression was pleading and I pursed my lips to stifle the bile and resentment.

“Just tell me the truth.” I choked. “Please. That’s all I want.”

She looked from me to Elliott and then touched her fingertips to her forehead as though she was trying to divine the truth.

“I’m not proud of the truth Morgan. I was young and stupid. I made huge mistakes and I almost lost you twice.”

“Do you understand that you put me in a pretty shitty situation here?” I asked. “I want to know about my past. I want all of the memories that were stolen from me. But then I learn that you exchanged, what…your life … _your soul_ … so I would forget one terrible night? Your life is in my hands Mom! My brother’s life is in my hands! What if I regain my memories within the next week? What if I kill you and the baby? These past three days have been hell, and I don’t deserve any of this!”

Tears fell silently down my mother’s face.

“You’re right. You didn’t.” She croaked. “And I don’t know how I can make it right. If I tell you too much now, I could be inadvertently hurting myself and the baby. But if the Swamp Witch is back as Rasmodius foretold then you need all of the information you can get to fight her.”

I threw up my hands in exasperation, “Okay okay okay. Back up. Who is Rasmodius? You told me that he lives in a tower in the forest. But what else? Who is he to you and I? How is he connected to all of this?”

Mom frowned. “Elliott, can you please go into my bedroom? There’s a small bookshelf across from the full-length mirror. There’s only one book there that doesn’t have a title on the spine. It’s a red hardbound book. Can you bring that to me? I’d get up but …” She gestured at her pregnant belly and smiled sheepishly.

Elliott cleared his throat. “Of course.”

As soon as Elliott was out of earshot, Mom whispered to me “How much does he know?”

“Some of it.” I murmured. “He knows about the amnesia and the memory curse. I’ve been having nightmares and so he might know more if I’ve been crying out in my sleep. I haven’t told him about what happened yesterday.”

Mom frowned. “What happened yesterday?”

“Dad — uh I mean Henry…uh he…”

I pantomimed a poor impression of a snarling beast and Mom gasped. “No!”

Just then, Elliott came out of the bedroom with the book and I shot her a somber look.

“Is this it?” Elliott asked.

“Yep. That’s the one.” Mom replied and then she passed it to me.

As soon as my fingertips touched the fabric, a flash of sensation struck me like a bolt of lightning. I threw the book onto the coffee table in front of me. It felt like I had touched an electrified fence. The memory might’ve been a small one, but holy shit, it was powerful.

“You read me this story when I was a child. You and Grandpa…and D-Dad?”

Mom nodded. “Do you remember what it was about?”

I stared at the book and tried to draw up the memory, but only fragments came. “I — I think it was a collection of stores. There was one about a donkey and a flea. I thought it was funny because the story called it an ‘ass’ which I thought was a curse word.” I closed my eyes and pressed my fingertips to my forehead as though I could compel my memories back. “There was a story about a wizard and the story scared me. Yoba … why did it scare me?”

“It scared you because the story was about the wizard and his wife. The wizard’s wife could not have children of her own and she so she grew envious and then resentful of the other townsfolk. She stole the wizard’s arcane power while he slept and ran deep into the woods until the land gave way to marsh and swamp. There she lived. Corrupted by her greed, anger, and hatred for the townsfolk, she lured naughty children away with sweets or small toys and then turned the children into doves.”

“Why doves?” Elliott asked.

My mother shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems strange for a witch to turn children into a bird that represents peace. I’ve always taken this story as another parable found in the Holy Book, but Henry assured me that it represented much more than that.”

“So you were afraid that the witch would lure me away and ... what ... turn me into a dove?” I asked. “And then when I was lured away, you, Grandpa, Uncle Marlon, and my father all went to try and get me back? Then my dad exchanged his life for mine because we both have some sort of forest magic in our blood, and then something terrible happened and you traded your life in exchange for my memories.”

My mother’s sterling blue eyes welled up with tears. She bowed her head in shame and sniffed. “Yes. That all sounds about right.”

I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees and buried my head in my hands. I wasn’t crying. I had nothing left to cry about. A cool sort of indifference settled over me. I didn’t have time to cry anymore. Crying wouldn’t solve this problem. I needed to dig deep and push on.

"Is this the truth Mom. The full, one hundred percent truth?"

She nodded, "Yes Morgan."

I sighed and I turned to Elliott, “You ready to go?"

He nodded and we rose from the couch.

“I’ll go get our things.” He said and then he kissed me on the cheek.

I knew he was trying to be tactful so Mom and I could have another moment of privacy.

I was feeling more drained than I had ever felt before, but I picked up the storybook and slipped it beneath my arm. Mom was struggled to get up since she was so off balance due to carrying my brother so low on her body, and I offered her my hand for support. She took it and then hissed.

“Are you okay?”

She brushed aside my concern with a fierce but pained smile. “I’m fine, hon. Sometimes I get false contractions. Ethan is quite an active little thing. But it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes….yes. Go on. Don’t worry about me.”

Elliott came out of the room with our things and my Mom opened the inside door for both of us. Sunlight streamed in through the glass porch door and the nice weather helped to boost my mood a little.

Elliott cleared his throat and extended his hand towards my mother, “It was good to meet you again Ms. Raymond. Thank you for having me.”

She shook his hand. She didn’t have a critical or sour expression but she was still looking at him rather intently.

“Uh…Mom?”

She let go of Elliott’s hand and flashed me one more small smile. “Sorry…I just had mommy brain for a second. Sometimes I’ll be in the middle of a thought and it just sort of vanishes.”

I felt a little awkward in how we were ending things. We came here so I could get closure, but instead we got more information, more questions, with very few answers. Maybe I just wanted a guarantee that my mom was going to be okay. Then again, she was a grown woman who made her choices. It wasn’t my responsibility to take care of her. I wasn’t the mother here. So I settled on giving her a hug.

“I love you.” I told her.

Her breath hitched in her chest and I heard her swallow the tears that I knew she’d later cry out in privacy. “Love you too daughter.”

Mom gave us a wave and then closed the inside door.

“C’mon, if we walk fast we can catch the bus that’s leaving in ten minutes.”

I had Elliott by the hand and I was about to walk away but he resisted. Concern for me etched his features and his eyes searched mine as if he could divine everything that I was thinking.

“How are you doing?” He asked. “And don’t say ‘fine’ unless you really mean it.”

I sighed and then I looked at the book in my hands. Just holding it made me feel uneasy and I passed it to him.

“Oh you know…I’m just afraid that if I give into the temptation and read this book that my pregnant mother is going to die.” I said in a tight sarcastic tone. “Could you hold on to it for me?”

Elliott took the book and slid it into his satchel which made the fabric bulge out like a snake that had just swallowed a mouse.

“We don’t have to go to a play tonight. If I were in your shoes, I’d need some time away from people to process through things.”

“But you bought tickets. I don’t want them to go to waste.”

“They won’t.” He said. “I worked as an usher for the theater. They like me and they will let me exchange the tickets out for a future show.”

“Are you sure? Yoba … I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “Nope. No apologies. Once we drop our bags off at the hotel, we’re still going to walk along the river and go out to dinner. We’ll do whatever catches our eye. C’mon. We don’t want to miss our bus.”

We walked quickly and despite the fact that our mutual baggage weighed us down and we made it with a minute to spare. Elliott and I took the first two seats that we could find and he let me slide in to sit by the window while he put our bags in the luggage rack above our heads.

It wasn’t that I was against going to the theater or seeing a show, but Elliott was absolutely right. I really didn’t want to sit in a crowded audience watching something while my mind was distracted by other more important things. Escapism was nice and all, but I needed to think and process. I was a bit amazed that he could see that just from that twenty minute visit with my mom.

I interlaced my fingers with Elliott’s and I kissed the back of his hand. He smiled and leaned his head on mine and we watched as the looming and impressive skyscrapers closed in around us. Well…maybe Elliott watched them. I was too busy thinking.


	7. Date Night in the City (Rated G)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a fluffy fluff fluff fluff type of chapter to take a step back from the drama/angst, and also to explore their relationship at a more soulful level.

Chapter 7 — Date Night in the City (Rated G)

March 4th (Spring, mid-afternoon)

The city gleamed golden in the late afternoon sun. Steam wafted up from through grates beneath the sidewalk which made everything look hazy and a little distorted. That’s what city life was like for me: hazy and distorted. Between the people with their survivalist scowls plastered on their faces as they walked home from work, and the crazy traffic complete with irate honking, indistinct yelling, and loud smoggy busses powering past the gridlock, I appreciated the quiet farm life even more now that I had a year to detox from this kind of chaos. Don’t get me wrong, Zuzu City wasn’t a bad place; it was filled with life and the brilliant billboards and lighted marquees made the city feel energized. I liked Zuzu City in small doses. Really really small doses.

Elliott and I walked through the throngs of people who were just trying to go about their daily routine. I remembered that life all too well. The glazed and exhausted look on the peoples’ faces made me think back to the sheer exhaustion I felt after being yelled at for a whole 8 hours by Joja customers who thought that being a voice on a telephone meant you had no feelings and you weren’t worth a smidge of respect. Farming was hard work of course but at least it made me feel fulfilled and satisfied. Working in a cubical city for a soulless monopoly like Joja was as close to hell on this planet as it could get.

“Hey. Let’s head towards Lion’s Park. I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic.” I told Elliott.

We cut East and went towards the river. In a small space of two blocks, the air felt fresher and cleaner, the people looked happier, and I felt my heart rate slowing back down.

Lion’s Park was the smaller of the two parks in the city, and it catered more to the college students at Zuzu Tech, East Zuzu University, and the two state community colleges which were a five-minute bus ride to the North.

The park wasn’t too busy. A handful of young adults or maybe older teenagers were playing basketball together. Their winter jackets and sweatshirts were hanging off the chain-link fence that surrounded the court. They played lazily and moved in long loping strides as neither group seemed all too competitive; they were probably just out here to have fun and enjoy the fresh air. There was a nice sized playground in the center of the park. Two families sat on benches next to each other while three children played together on the massive play pirate themed play set. I thought about the little jungle gym and metal slide that was up near the community center. The metal jungle gym bars were rusted and the paint was flaking off, and the metal slide was full of accumulated dirt, debris, and litter. I mean who the hell throws trash on a kid’s playground?

“A coin for your thoughts?” Elliott asked.

I blushed. “Sorry…I just got caught up thinking about the city and how different this all feels since I’ve moved away. Mom never took me to a playground like the one over there. Then I wondered if I ever played on the playground near the community center. Now the playground is a death trap but I just wonder what life was like for me before … when I was a small child I mean.”

“I understand what you mean.” He replied. “It’s amazing how a person’s surroundings can influence them so much. If you were to ask me to write something at this very moment, I’d be hard pressed to produce anything of substance. Life back home in Pelican Town just seems so…”

“Idyllic?” I finished for him.

“Exactly.”

A happy thrill ran through me when he referenced Pelican Town as his home, but it was quickly tempered by the residual pain I felt about what was going on with my personal life. Yoba, I wanted to know about my past. The memories that had already came back were emotional and powerful but they were my memories. They’re what made me…me. But I had to be careful in how I gathered information. I didn’t exactly have a way to determine when I was close to regaining all of them. Each memory I experienced pushed Mom one step closer to death. I shook those thoughts from my head. This was our date. There would be time to brood about all of this later.

We walked through the park to get to the handsome stone and brick pedestrian bridge that crossed the river. Joggers and the occasional cyclist passed us while we meandered towards the middle of the bridge. We both looked out across the Kelly River at the city that seemed to crowd right up to the river’s edge. The metal skyscrapers were splashed with yellow and gold as the sun sank just above the treeline. Pink and blue neon lights glowed out from the streets. Soon the streetlights would turn on and the city would take on a whole new look as the sun finally set. At a distance, I could appreciate the beauty.

The dark water of the Kelly River swirled below. Large ice chunks floated beneath like a fleet of white boats. The ice on the Killakelly Flowage must have just gone out since that was the Kelly River’s source. I imagined that the ice chunks had to be three or four times their size and just slowly melted as they floated down the river. By the time the waters reached the Gem Sea, the silt and debris carried in the muddy water will have settled to the bottom and the river would look so clear that you could see thirty feet down.

Rumor had it that the Killakelly Flowage had trophy sized muskellunge and pike, but I had never actually gone on a vacation other than spending time in Pelican Town. Yoba … fishing up there would be a blast. Based on their informational brochures, the scenery alone was motivation enough for many people to visit. The resorts and cabins up there catered to all types of people.

When I turned towards Elliott, I saw that he was looking intently at me.

“W-what?” I asked.

“Nothing!” His intent expression softened and he smiled reassuringly. “Absolutely nothing, love. I just like watching your face while you’re thinking. You are so expressive yet so private. I find it endearing that’s all.”

My face grew warm and I turned back towards the river. “Yeah well you think a lot too, so…”

He chuckled. “I imagine things my dear. There’s a difference. You look so serious and focused. It’s like you’re trying to solve all of the world’s problems on your own. I just wish that I could read your thoughts sometimes, that’s all.”

Elliott’s fingers interlaced with mine and he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. He felt warm and I noticed that the temperature was dipping now that the sun was behind the trees. We continued walking across the bridge hand-in-hand.

“I really only think about the farm, fishing, and you.” I replied.

“I doubt that’s true.”

I scoffed, “It’s more or less true! I mean aside for the recent drama that’s taken center stage in my life, I really just think about those three things.”

Elliott still didn’t look convinced but he smiled graciously. “And might I ask where I rate on that list?”

“It depends on the day.” I replied. “But no matter what, you’ll always be in the top three things that I think about.”

“Alright. I can accept that.” He smiled.

We kept on walking down the riverside. Pigeons sat boldly on the fence that blocked the river cooing and waiting for us to throw bread crumbs or to drop a scrap of food to the ground. They were almost as bad as seagulls with their begging ways. I eyed one with disdain and it looked right back at me, almost daring me to come at it, and so I looked away. I didn’t know from personal experience, but I heard that pigeons could be quite vicious if provoked.

“Would you like to stop for a coffee or a hot chocolate?” Elliott asked as we passed a cute cafe on the corner.

“Sure. A hot chocolate sounds nice.”

The small brass door chime rang when we stepped in and the heavenly aroma of roasted coffee and fresh baked pastries hit us like a warm wall of pure happiness. Surprisingly the place wasn’t that busy. There was a woman reading in the corner. A half-eaten scone sat on a small plate and the ice in her empty drink was melting. The only other patron was behind us sitting in an alcove with earbuds in and typing away at his laptop.

“Elliott? Oh my Yoba! It’s been a long time.” A tenor male voice exclaimed.

I looked up and saw a handsome man with a fine black goatee and short dark brown hair looking at Elliott in a mixture of surprise and familiarity. Elliott, however, looked cautious until the man realized that something, somewhere had been miscommunicated.

“Ha ha … oh … yeah. You haven't seen me in a while. I suppose you…well…it’s Rachel. We worked together — what was it — like a year and a half ago? I helped you clean up and took you to the clinic after that asshole and his friends jumped you out behind The Blue Heron bar.”

The woman in the corner shot him a disapproving look and the barista winced in rebuke. “Uh…I go by Raul now…so…”

Elliott’s eyes widened and he jerked forward as though someone had shocked him. “Oh Yoba! Oh … Raul … yes I’m so sorry. Of course I remember you. I’m so sorry! I just didn’t recognize you. Congratulations!”

I don’t think the man’s smile could get any wider. His green eyes sparkled and I saw that Elliott’s unwavering acceptance had meant a lot. I completely understood that. It felt amazing to be on the receiving end of Elliott’s seemingly limitless support. Hell…I didn’t even know the guy and I was happy for him too!

“How are you?” Elliott asked. “Are you still finishing your Journalism degree?”

“I’m feelin’ pretty great, and I graduate from J-School in May. Crazy how time flies huh? And what about you? You’re looking well.” Raul looked at me. “And what’s your name?”

“I’m Morgan.”

“Gah — I’m just — my mind is going too fast for me to process. Sorry, love. Raul this is my girlfriend Morgan. She and I met in Pelican Town. It’s a small place about an hour away. The town is right on the Gem Sea. The move was pretty spontaneous, so I’m sorry that I didn’t say good-bye.”

“I’ll say.” Raul replied. “Hey…I want to keep talking but you should order something so I don’t get in trouble with my manager.”

“I’ll have a hot chocolate please.” I replied.

“I’ll have the same but no whip cream.” Elliott said.

I moved towards my purse but Elliott already had his debit card out and passed it to Raul.

“Is Suzie still the manager here?” Elliott asked.

“Yep. And she hasn’t changed all that much since you were here. She’s still a taskmaster and it would take a professional pole vaulter to meet her expectations, but she’s good folk and she asks about you still. When I see her tomorrow, I’ll let her know that you stopped by.”

We walked down to the end of the bar to pick up our drinks. Raul looked at me from over the top of the espresso machine and asked, “So Morgan. What do you do in Pelican Town?”

“Oh I’m a farmer.” I cringed at how lame that sounded. “I mean…that’s not all I do but yeah…I own a farm.”

I thought that he was going to laugh but instead his eyebrows rose. “Oh yeah? What kinds of things do you sell?”

“This season I’ll have goat's milk and plenty of farm fresh eggs. Once I can get my produce started, I also sell parsnips, potatoes, cauliflower, and green beans. I can and preserve my own produce as well and I’m usually swimming in blueberries and cranberries come Fall.”

Elliott smiled warmly. “Seriously Raul, she does everything.”

He passed Elliott his drink and added a healthy dollop of whipped cream and miniature chocolate chips on mine before giving it to me.

“If you don’t mind, could I get your contact info so I can pass it along to Suzie? She is passionate about helping out small businesses. We’re anticipating a busy tourist season this summer and all of our pastries are homemade. You won’t believe how many eggs we go through! It would be nice to have a local farmer who we can go to first instead of the Super Joja Mart across town.”

“Uh…wow! I mean yes, of course. Hold on.” I set my drink down and I dug through my purse for a pen and paper but Elliott already had it ready for me.

“Thanks.” I smiled. I scrawled my name, my cell phone number, and my address onto the paper and slid it to Raul.

“Cool! I’ll pass this on to Suzie tomorrow. She should give you a call in a few days and you both can work out the particulars if you’re interested.”

“Yeah that’d be great!”

Elliott’s warm and gentle hand rested on my mid back and he nodded towards the door. “Well, we should get going Raul. Our dinner reservation is at six.”

“Okay.” He replied brightly and he extended his hand across the countertop “It was nice to meet you Morgan.”

I shook it. “Yeah. You too Raul. Congrats on your upcoming college graduation and everything else. And thanks for watching out for Elliott last year.”

Raul looked a little surprised that I knew what ‘the incident’ was that he and Elliott had referenced but then he shrugged shyly. “It wasn’t anything. He’d do the same for all of us.”

I laced my fingers into his free left hand. “That he would.” I agreed.

The small doorbell chimed once more as we stepped out of the warm comfortable cafe and into the damp cold evening. I was glad that I had something hot to keep me warm as we walked along the darkening riverside towards our first real date.

* * *

Fitger’s Riverside Bistro was a popular dinner spot and there were already couples waiting outside on the benches near the riverfront when we got there. Everyone I saw was wearing long overcoats or dress jackets which barely protected them from the damp Spring chill. Most ladies were bare-legged and wore dresses of varying lengths while the men were in black or grey suit pants with coordinating dress shoes. I looked at my own outfit: scuffed black low heels that I’ve had since high school, the cream blouse I wore on my birthday, and grey dress pants that I dug out from my Joja office job days.

“You look lovely.” Elliott murmured into my ear while we waited in line behind a large group whose table was ready.

“You clean up nicely as well.” I replied.

Elliott was wearing a warm grey knit sweater beneath his red suit jacket along with khaki pants. His hair hung loose and he was wearing some kind of cologne that made my heart race every time I caught his scent.

When the hostess got to us, she greeted us with a warm smile and said, “Welcome folks! Do you have a reservation or would you like to add your name to the waiting list?”

“We have a reservation.” Elliott replied. “For two. Under ‘Michaels.’”

“Ah yes. Of course. Welcome and please follow me.”

The hostess along with the rest of the waitstaff wore smart-looking uniforms with black pants, a pressed white shirt, and a black tie. Our hostess was a short and delightfully plump woman with grey streaks through a swath of mahogany brown hair. She moved with a confident, unhurried air and her confidence helped cool my own feelings of social awkwardness.

“Here you are.” She said. “Your waiter’s name is Michael and he will be taking care of you this evening.”

She waited for us to take our seats before she started filling our water goblets. I shrugged off my jacket and hung it behind my chair and Elliott did likewise. The menus sat in front of us in hardbound plastic and cloth. A smaller drink and desert menu sat propped up next to a tiny candle that flickered merrily in the dim restaurant.

“We have two specials this evening. The first is our pecan crusted salmon over a bed of wild rice pilaf. That is served with your choice of potato and our house soup or salad. The second special is our vegetarian option which is a cajun tofu vegetable stir fry which comes with snow peas, water chestnuts, broccoli, carrots, mushrooms, and a ginger soy sauce. And if you’d like, we have a coat check available right behind our hostess station.”

“Thank you.” Elliott replied.

She nodded in reply. “Michael will be with you momentarily to get your drink order. Enjoy your meal.”

Once the hostess left, Elliott said, “Would you like me to take your jacket?”

“Oh…uh, sure.”

Elliott draped my coat and his over one arm and disappeared into the crowd carefully avoiding the waitstaff and dishwashers as they operated with practiced efficiency. He moved like he was one of them, and I suppose he once was. Elliott spent the past couple of years working at cafes and restaurants like this to help him pay for college. I wonder if Elliott had ever worked here too.

I opened the menu and scanned the entree options. The prices for food were what I kind of expected. The food was expensive but not overpriced. I was trying really hard to not let my silly guilt ruin this moment. Couples did this, they went on nice dates together. There was nothing wrong with letting Elliott buy dinner.

Elliott came back just as the waiter came by. Michael, our waiter, was a tall and lithe man. His ear piercing glinted in the candlelight and his sandy brown hair was shaved on the sides and long on top and he gathered the top bit into a short ponytail.

“Good evening folks.” He replied. “Welcome to Fitger’s Riverside Bistro. Have you had a chance to glance at our drink menu? We have twenty-four tap beers, a full selection of wine and liquor, and we also have some delicious dessert drinks on the last page.”

“What type of wine do you recommend with the salmon?” Elliott asked.

Michael spoke with confident authority and he opened up our drink menu to the wine list. “I recommend either a Sauvignon Blanc or Chardonnay. We offer both through the vineyard Woodward Canyon and we also have a Sauvignon Blanc from Gregor Hill Farms.”

“I’ll have the Woodward Canyon’s Sauvignon Blanc.” Elliott replied.

“Excellent.” Michael replied. “And you?”

“I’ll get a glass of Riesling.” I said.

The waiter nodded. “Wonderful. I’ll go put those orders in now and I’ll come back to get your food order.”

Michael left us alone and I blushed beneath Elliott’s expectant gaze.

“Wow. This is a nice place.” I said. “Did you ever work here?”

“No.” He chuckled. “I worked at the Parkside Grill over by Randall Park. I also bartended at Blaze which is a nightclub popular with the college students. I’ve worn a lot of different hats but none of them were nearly as fulfilling as writing. I just knew that this place had a good reputation and this was the only place that had a menu that served fresh fish instead of stuff frozen from industrial fish farms. I also heard that their shrimp cocktail appetizer is worth the price.”

We browsed through the menu, or rather, I pretended to browse — I already knew that I was getting the salmon dinner — but I didn’t know what else to do. What did people talk about on dates like this?

“So…” I began hoping Elliott would pick up the conversation in some way. I was so bad at small talk. Yoba, this shouldn’t be so hard! We had been together for a whole six months!

“So…” He grinned and I knew he felt just like I did.

Thankfully Michael came back with our drinks. He took our orders: a shrimp cocktail appetizer, two house salads, and the salmon dinner for both of us, and disappeared far too soon.

Elliott and I locked eyes again and I felt my face flush in embarrassment.

“Yoba…we are so bad at this!” I laughed.

His laugh echoed mine and I was grateful to see a faint flush on his face as well. “Well…you know Morgan. We’ve never really sat down to just get to know each other. The last time we did something like this was at the Saloon nearly a year ago, and after that, it was when you came to my cabin for dinner.”

“What in the world have we been doing together all this time?” I drawled sarcastically. “It’s like you’re a complete stranger to me.”

Elliott’s smile was rueful and edged with lust. “Yes. We’ve been rather distracted by … things.”

I bit my lower lip and tried to swallow my smirk. He was right. Ever since that first night together the priorities in our relationship strayed more towards the physical. And he was going to be gone for six weeks. There was certainly more to discuss than just how sexually attracted we were to each other.

“Alright sir.” I said. “Prepare to be interrogated.”

Elliott chuckled and sat up as though he was at a job interview. He folded his hands on the table and met my eyes. “I’m ready when you are.”

I blurted out the first question that came to mind. “What’s your favorite animal?”

He glanced up at the ceiling clearly thinking and swallowed a smirk of his own.

“Sea otters.” He said firmly. “They’re playful and intelligent creatures. They are graceful swimmers and they sometimes hold hands while they sleep so they don’t float away from one another.”

“Alright…that’s freaking adorable.” I said.

He smiled wryly, “Which part. The fact that my choice was sea otters or the holding hands part.”

“Both but the holding hands part especially. I honestly didn’t know what you were going to say. I thought you were going to say a shark or a dolphin.”

“No. Sharks are terrifying. They are still beautiful in their own way but I never stray far from the beach while I’m swimming. I have a healthy respect for their power. And dolphins…well…they would’ve been my choice until I read that scientists have witnessed pods of males attack and rape other dolphins to show dominance.”

“Now there’s a fact I could’ve gone without knowing.” I replied and took a sip of my wine.

“I’m sorry, that’s hardly a polite topic of conversation.” Elliott replied with a grimace. “Anyway… what about you Morgan? What’s your favorite animal?”

“Easy. Horses. Most definitely horses.” I said.

“Really? Do you know how to ride?”

“Um … kind of? I think I rode a lot as a child. I know that Grandpa had a grey mare named Silver that he used to ride. He also kept a couple of miniature horses and a pony, but I’m a little suspicious that riding is a skill that I’ll remember if I just start doing it. Kinda like riding a bike, I guess.”

At that moment, the waiter came with our appetizer, our salads, and refreshed our goblets with water.

Six juicy shrimp sat in a martini glass full of ice. Two thick lemon slices sat in the middle with a ramekin of cocktail sauce in between them.

“So what do you like about horses?” Elliott asked as he picked up a shrimp with a cocktail fork and dipped it into the sauce.

I poured the vinaigrette over my salad and helped myself to a shrimp as well.

“Well I know it’s kind of cliche and all. My old bedroom at my Mom’s house used to be full of horse-themed everything. I had a horse border around my walls, a horseshoe bedspread, several plastic horse toys…” I shook my head as I felt the desire to go off on a tangent and I pulled myself back in.

“The only thing I wasn’t serious about was horseback riding. Mom couldn’t afford to enroll me in classes and Grandpa’s horse, Silver, was too old to go any faster than a slow walk. Eventually he had to put Silver down and he never got another horse after that. Although I’m not an expert equestrian, I still think they’re gorgeous animals. They’re powerful and when I look into a horse’s eyes I see patience and mischievousness there. They have all sorts of personalities and quirks like humans do. I can’t imagine what it would be like to ride one while galloping.”

“I imagine it could be very freeing…or terrifying.” Elliott said.

I shrugged in agreement and took a couple of bites of my salad. The homemade vinaigrette was tart and slightly sour but it helped temper the spice from the radish and red onions.

“What’s your favorite type of coat on a horse?”

“Black.” I said. “And I blame the book Black Beauty for that. I think the spine broke on my copy because I read it so much.”

Elliott smiled at that. His left hand was resting on the table as we ate and I smoothly slid my hand across the table to grab it.

“I’m having a good time Elliott. Thank you for this.”

He beamed and squeezed my hand in reply. He dabbed at his lips with the cloth napkin and settled back in his chair. “You are very welcome.”

While we finished our salads and appetizers, the waiter came by to clear our plates and told us that our food would be ready momentarily. Elliott and I ordered another glass of wine to drink with dinner and our ‘interrogation’ of each other continued.

“I know a few of the things that you like but what are somethings that you absolutely hate?” I asked.

“Amaranth.” Elliott replied emphatically and then he added, “Well that’s more of a hate by association type thing. My family was sitting down for a dinner of amaranth and salmonberry salad when the whole nightmare with Eva’s ex started up. I’ve sworn off those two foods entirely since then.”

He pursed his lips as he considered the question. “I also despise sea cucumbers.”

“Sea cucumbers?” I echoed. “You mean those things that live at the bottom of the ocean? They kinda inch along down —“

“— Gah — bleh — please Morgan. No more!” He blurted. “They are disgusting and I hate them. I hate thinking about them. I once saw one that the tidal currents pushed up towards the rocky shoreline on the right side of Willy’s dock. I thought it was just an odd looking rock and then I touched it and —“

Elliott bit his lip and he physically cringed at the memory. “Okay…let’s move this on to you. I can’t —“

I tried my best not to laugh but I couldn’t help it. A little giggle escaped and I finished the last of my wine just so I had something to do that wasn’t unintentionally making my boyfriend feel bad for his fear of a deep sea, harmless bottom feeder.

Thankfully the waiter came back with our food and two fresh drinks which gave me one more moment to compose myself.

“Please enjoy.” Michael said with a polite nod.

The salmon looked stunning. Crushed pecans, parsley and dill peppered the flaky flesh as the natural oils and olive oil dripped off the fillet and soaked into the wild rice pilaf. A white ramekin full of brimming with rough mashed red potatoes sat next to the fish. Kale and another lemon wedge garnished the plate. I squeezed the lemon across my fish and added liberal amounts of pepper to the potatoes.

Elliott cleared his throat. He had composed himself again but the flush that colored his cheeks deepened. “So what about you? Do any of your distastes skew towards embarrassing?”

“I’m not embarrassed by it but I do react a bit dramatically when I encounter bees, hornets, wasps, or any other loud flying insect that stings. My mom once thought I was being murdered because a bumblebee got into the house and landed on our kitchen table. I screamed and screamed until she came running. I know in my rational mind that honey bees are important for farming and they are useful creatures in general, and bumblebees are generally harmless, but I can’t stand the sight of them. The sound of them buzzing also makes me cringe.”

“But bumblebees are kind of cute.” Elliott said as he ate some of his fish.

“They are! But I can find something cute and still hate it.” I said. “And before you ask, yes my fear of bees means I will never ever have a bee house on the farm. I don’t care that honey is a lucrative and highly desired farm product. I will never keep bees. _Ever_.”

“Whenever my next book gets published we are going to buy five bee hives and put them next to the garden.” He teased.

I lowered my voice to a fierce whisper. “Elliott Michaels, I swear to Yoba that I will drop sea cucumbers on you while you are in the shower if you ever do that to me.”

He blanched and he held his hands up in surrender. “Truce. Okay! No bees and no sea cucumbers.”

The rest of our dinner continued on in companionable silence. I enjoyed teasing Elliott probably as much as he enjoyed using his sarcasm and sly wit to tease me. It was nice being with someone who you could laugh with. I appreciated that despite being a serious person, Elliott could relax and let more of his adorable dorky personality show through.

Once we finished our meals and the waiter cleared our plates, we sipped wine as the night sky fully claimed the city outside. Michael came by with the dessert tray and explained the decadent options to us.

“We have our house crème brûlée, a dark chocolate ganache tart with caramel sauce, an apple and pomegranate cobbler ala mode —“

“Ooh. That sounds good!” I said.

“I agree.” Elliott replied.

“Wonderful.” He said primly. “I’ll get that for you right away.”

Elliott took my hand again and shook his head in disbelief. “I told you that our meeting was fate Morgan. I didn’t know that you liked pomegranates as well.”

“Oh…I’ve never actually tried them before. The apples were what won me over. I love apples and you can’t go wrong with ice cream either.”

“No you can’t.” He agreed.

The desert was delicious of course. The pomegranate seeds were slightly tart but the caramelized apples and the powder sugar that was dusted over the crumble helped balance the two flavors. The ice cream ala mode was a smooth caramel flavor and it slowly melted into the fruit syrup mix which lended a creamy note to the whole desert.

I put my spoon down and finished my wine. The alcohol left me with a pleasant sleepy sort of buzz and I was content to head back to the hotel room to relax before bed. The waiter came by and took our desert plate and placed the black bill folder on the table.

“I can take care of that whenever you’re ready.”

Elliott looked equally content and he slipped his debit card on the inside folder. “I’m ready, thank you.”

Michael departed and we were left alone in silence.

“Thank you.” I said. “Seriously…this has been pretty romantic.”

“Of course Morgan. You deserve to be romanced.”

I didn’t shirk off or dodge that comment. Not this time at least. This date was pure. Elliott had no ulterior motive. This wasn’t a favor to be owed. He wanted nothing else in return except to make me happy — to introduce me to a new experience. Although it was a little embarrassing, eating at a restaurant that had cloth napkins instead of paper ones was a new experience. And it was one that I hope we could repeat very soon.

Michael came back with Elliott’s card and a receipt then bid us a good night. We walked to the coat room to get our jackets and Linda, the hostess, opened the door for us as we stepped out into the cold Spring night feeling full, sated, and very much in love.


	8. Meeting the Wizard (Rated G)

Chapter 8 - Meeting the Wizard (Rated G)

March 9th (Spring)

Elliott’s train pulled out of Zuzu Station on March 5th. I followed the train down the platform until it disappeared into the tunnel and out of sight. I won’t lie. I felt his absence; I missed him, but I refused to dwell on it. Six weeks was a long time, but it was only six weeks. He’d be back home on April 20th, after the Egg Festival, and life would go back to normal once again. I wasn’t going to be the kind of woman who needed a man by her side to function. I had a farm to run. The winter weather finally broke and the Valley was easing into Spring which meant that I had plenty of work to do.

I worked from sunrise until sunset each day. I planted my garden with double the produce that I had last year. Pierre was selling new seeds so among the potatoes, beans, parsnips, and cauliflower, I also tried my hand at growing fresh garlic and kale. The busier I kept myself, the less time I had to dwell on everything else.

By the second week of Spring, the farm was starting to look alive again and the budding garden held promise of good times to come. I had six healthy adult chickens who were all laying multiple eggs per day. I had more than enough to eat so I started selling them to Suzie from the Cafe. She paid me 20% more than what Mayor Lewis could get for them and that was even after the small fee that she took off the top to pay for gas to come to the farm and collect them.

Believe it or not, I was starting to feel like a legitimate business now. I made a mental note to talk to Leah to see if she could design some business cards for me. I’d pay her of course, and it was just one more step to help advertise my products.

Throughs the first two weeks of Spring, I was so busy that I ended up passing out shortly after dinner and then I’d wake up at daybreak and start the whole routine over again. Life felt like it was going back to normal, and although I was exhausted, I felt pretty good. That was until I saw Marlon walking down the mountain trail towards my farm wearing a sour expression.

“Good morning.” I said once he got within earshot. “What brings you down this way?”

He looked at me with a steely expression. “I’m just wondering why my granddaughter has been avoiding me for the past couple of weeks. I left you two notes and I sent you a letter last week asking for you to come and see me, but you had to make an old man walk down a mountainside instead.”

No. I wasn’t going to let him guilt trip me. Relative or not, I still didn’t really know this man. Sure, I remembered him and I remembered that he was starting to teach me how to use a sword back when I was a child, but I didn’t really “know him - know him.”

I tried to force as much empathy and assertiveness into my voice, “The farm is my livelihood. I haven’t had time to make my way up there. Hell, I haven’t been off my farm since I got back from Zuzu City. I’m not trying to avoid you Marlon. I’ve just been busy.”

He grunted. It was a grunt that fell somewhere between ‘I doubt you’ and ‘Liar liar pants on fire.’

“Have you had any more memories come back since we last spoke?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t been seeking them out either.”

His thick eyebrows furrowed until they nearly touched. “You haven’t been seeking them out? Morgan, you need to regain your memories. You need all of them if you’re going to even find the Swamp Witch so you can destroy her.”

“Woah woah woah!” I exclaimed. “First of all, you told me that if I regain my memories, my mother is going to die. Second of all, it’s not my job to destroy anyone or anything. I’m not a knight for hire. If you want this Swamp Witch destroyed then why don’t you go ask this wizard that everyone’s been talking about. Surely he knows of a —“

Marlon’s gnarled hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. He pulled me towards him and pushed up my jacket sleeve.

“What are you doing?!”

He pulled out a sapphire stone about the size of an apricot and placed it into my palm and closed my fingers around it. At first I felt nothing, but then an electric pain radiated out from my palm and shoot up my arm.

“Ah — what the f—“

“Take your jacket off.” He growled.

I obeyed and once I withdrew my left arm from the sleeve I damn near screamed.

Sickly yellow and green lines ran out from the center of my palm and extended out to all of my fingers. There was a clear red mark at the center of my palm. It looked as though something had bit or stung me because the skin felt swollen and inflamed.

“So it begins.” Marlon intoned. “That bitch.”

I jerked my hand from his grip which dislodged the sapphire stone from my hand and the thing dropped to the ground. Once the stone fell away, my arm returned back to normal. The skin was healthy and pain-free.

“W-what was that?” Why did my arm look like that?”  
  
“The witch has marked you.” Marlon replied as he grabbed the fallen sapphire. “She must’ve sent her bugs out and one of them stung you. She couldn’t have you as a child so she’s trying to exact her vengeance now.”

“What are you talking about? What vengeance?”

The old man shook his head. “I can’t talk about it here. Follow me.”

Marlon started towards the southern pasture at a fast walk. His artificial leg didn’t impede him too much but he still walked with the aid of a stick. His scabbard glinted in the sunlight and bounced a little as he walked.

He turned back towards me and cocked his head, “You’re not coming?”

“Uh…where are we going?!” I asked. “You can’t just show up on my farm, put some magic stone in my hand and tell me that I’m marked, and then walk off into the woods. It doesn’t work like that!”

Marlon’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “In Pelican Town, it absolutely works like that. Now do you want answers or not? You’ll never get there on your own. I’ll guide you there and back again free of charge.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to meet the Wizard.”

* * *

Rasmodius’s tower sat against the blue sky like something from a child’s fairy tale story. I wouldn’t have found the place without Marlon guiding the way. He cut down tall weeds and small trees with his sword, and despite his advanced age, he moved with the sure swiftness of a man who was never without his sword. The weapon seemed more like an extension of his arm rather than a tool. I picked up my feet feeling the briars and thorny bushes tearing at my work boots and jeans. A thin sheen of sweat covered my face and I was huffing and puffing behind my grandfather embarrassed by how out of shape I felt.

We approached a stone tower made of weathered grey basalt and limestone. The bottom of the tower was covered in a thick moss. Thick green ivy climbed the tower and wrapped around a dilapidated tin roof that looked to have been a royal purple at some point until the sun had bleached the paint and turned the roof to a faint lilac. A golden wind chime clinked in the breeze as it hung from the rafter. The building stood at least forty feet high. In fact, the tower was so imposing that I had no idea why I hadn’t seen it along the skyline when I was fishing in the Cindersnap Forest.

“Has this place always been here?” I asked.

Marlon nodded. “The Wizard watches over Pelican Town. He’s been here longer than most can remember. I’d wager that he’s been here ever since the elves inhabited the forest before mankind came.”

I blinked dumbly at him. “Elves?” I echoed. “There were elves here?”

“Long long ago. They’re all extinct now.” He replied.

Marlon said it with such conviction that I almost believed him. Sure. Elves use to live in the forest. Next he’d tell me that dwarves lived up in the mountains or that there were monsters hiding in the sewer.

“Let’s go.” He said.

I offered him my arm for support as we climbed the uneven stone steps that led to the Wizard’s front door. The temperature noticeably dropped once we stood in the tower’s shadow. I fought down a shiver and I led Marlon to the ancient oak door. Although I couldn’t be sure, I felt a slight tingling sensation in my fingers. It felt like I was standing beneath an industrial electric pylon because it sent the hairs on my arms and at the back of my neck standing on end.

Marlon used his sword hilt to knock on the door.

“Oh great Wizard. We seek your council.” He sounded bored and a little irritated rather than reverent or respectful. And I think I heard a tinge of sarcasm as well.

There was silence on the other end of the door and I wondered if he wasn’t home. Maybe he was running errands or something. Then again…what sort of errands would a wizard run? Was there a special on toadstool at Pierre’s or something?

Marlon sighed and he knocked again. This time his tone was unequivocally annoyed.

“Oh wise one.” He intoned insincerely. “We are two travelers who humbly —“ Marlon shook his head in disgust and he knocked even harder. “Let us in you old coot! I’ve got Morgan with me. We don’t got time to play your silly little games.”

I swallowed the smirk that rose to my lips. Clearly I got my penchant for sarcasm from his side of the family.

A smokey and reedy voice replied through the door, “Have you no respect for the old ways Marlon? I —“

A small window opened in the door and a wrinkled face with two large violet eyes looked out at us. His equally violet eyebrows rose in astonishment when he saw me.

“Gods above…” He murmured. Then he slammed the window shut and a series of locks clicked open in rapid succession. He wrenched open the door but stood out of sight. The interior to his tower was pitch black like the inside of a cave.

“Come in.”

Marlon gestured at the darkness with his head. “Go on.”

I stepped across the threshold and the electric tingling grew even more intense. Sparks danced off my skin like tiny jolts of static electricity. It didn’t feel bad or painful, it just felt weird. When I took one more step, the darkness suddenly disappeared. It was like someone had pulled a black hood off my face.

The inside of the Wizard’s tower looked like every Solorian Chronicles movie trailer and board game advertisement that I had ever seen. This place looked like it was ripped out of a movie set with dragons, wizards, magic, and elves.

A huge cauldron sat over a large fire pit that was built into the stone floor. Whatever was inside bubbled and produced a faint emerald colored smoke. To my right was a huge wooden table filled to the brim with books, scrolls, quills, ink wells, and lit candles that were melting crimson wax onto ceramic plates. In the far back room, an ornate chalk drawing was inscribed on the floor. Thirteen red and black candles were placed equidistance around the space, and to top it off, the entire room smelled faintly of aromatic incense and pipe tobacco.

The Wizard looked at me. I felt a wave of power and authority radiate outward. I knew he was powerful — it was an instinctual knowledge rather than something I remembered from my past — but I also knew that he could be frightening when provoked.

He spoke in a deep basso voice that reverberated off the stone walls. “I have seen many things about your future Morgan Raymond. I have seen all that has passed, all that could come to be, and all that will.”

“What do you mean ‘all that will’?” I asked. “Can you see what will happen to me in the future?”

The Wizard shook his head. “If I were to tell you, it could have dire consequences. But I do sense that you’ve been touched by corruption. Please step closer. I’d like to examine you with my arcane sight.”

I looked at Marlon who simply nodded, then I stepped forward and the Wizard produced a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew a circle on the floor around my feet. I felt an electrical energy vibrate over my body as soon as he finished drawing the circle. My arm hair stood on end. My nose itched and I felt like I needed to sneeze, but I held back as Rasmodius circled around me like he was appraising a statue at a museum.

“Yes…quite interesting.” He murmured. He reached into the circle, took my arm, and guided my hand so my palm was up. He ran his other hand six inches above mine and one of the stones in his many rings glowed emerald green.

He stepped back and waved his hand. Just like that, the electric tingling and the pressure that had built was gone. The chalk circle was also gone.

“The Witch has tainted you with her corruption.” The Wizard said. “She is leeching off of your inherent protection and magic. She is trying to drain your life away.”

“Drain my life away? What the hell does that mean?” I asked.

“You have an inborn talent gifted to your father’s bloodline from the Forest Spirits — the Junimos — and that power offers you energy, protection, and vitality. She is feeding off of your gift like a mosquito feeds off an animal. She is not taking a lot, but it will add up in the end.”

“How much time does she have?” Marlon asked.

“The corruption has just started which means she still has time. I’d wager that she has half a year before the corruption affects her physical health. Maybe another six months before she is fully succumbs to it.”

I blinked in astonishment. Confusion and denial fought for dominance and I just stared at both men like they had spoke in a foreign language.

“So … I’m going to die?” I asked.

“Not exactly.” The Wizard said and he walked over to a huge oak bookshelf and removed a bulky tome from one the lowest shelf.

He set the book down on the table and it made a substantial thump that dislodged dust and looseleaf tobacco.  
  
“Come here Morgan.”

I approached the table as he opened the book. The pages were yellowed with age and the writing inside looked liked like illegible scrawl. Rasmodius placed his palm over a page, closed his eyes, and murmured something. The book glowed a brilliant violet hue that matched the Wizard’s hair and robe. He reached out and touched my palm with his free hand and the violet power arched across my skin like dancing electricity. I gasped and tried to jerk away but my entire left arm remained where it was. The electricity wasn’t painful. In fact, the color and the intensity behind the magic captivated me, entranced me, until the room blurred out of focus and I lost all sense of myself.

The Wizard’s tower disappeared and I saw that I was standing near the pond in the Secret Woods. The ancient trees towered over me. Their boughs were thin with newly budding leaves which threw golden sunlight across the forest floor. Three moss covered statues were tucked away into the forest’s undergrowth obscuring their faces from my view. A fourth statue was so weatherbeaten that the object’s face was worn smooth. The statue was about eight feet tall and the body looked to be like that of a matronly woman. Her hips were full and her long cloak bulged at the chest to imply an ample bosom. She was carrying something in her arms, and it didn’t take a huge leap in logic to assume the something was a baby.

High pitched chirping sounds came from behind the statue and several Junimos cautiously scurried out and up the statue carried by their spidery legs. The largest one was a vibrant yellow color and it had an antennae with a small purple star on its head and it jumped down onto the statue’s base, rose up onto its hind legs, and held out a tiny leg towards me.

I took the creature’s leg in-between my thumb and index finger and shook it. The Junimo let out a happy trill and the rest scurried around the base near their leader. None of the creatures had mouths but I understood the frantic chirps and trills as though they were speaking my language.

The yellow leader chirped: _We are the spirits of the forest. Protectors and guardians of all that is good and pure, but our power is dwindling as the corruption grows stronger. Will you be our champion? Will you help save the Junimos?_

I tried to speak but nothing came out. I suspected that I couldn’t speak at all while I was in this state, so instead, I nodded.

A small red Junimo stepped forward. It’s chirp was light and high like the chime of a small bell.

_Honored protector. You must find our shrine in the building corrupted by age and disuse. Provide us the offerings we desire and we will help you fight the evil witch and her monsters._

I wanted to ask about the Swamp Witch. Hell, I wanted to ask them how I could cure the corruption from myself, but all my body was able to do was nod again.

The collection of Junimos jumped around and chirped. They tightly squeezed their little black eyes in satisfaction. Their leader gave a stately bow and hopped up the statue and jumped behind it and out of sight. Within a few seconds, the rest followed and then the entire scene faded before my eyes.

“Morgan?” The Wizard’s voice sounded far away and I tried to reach out for him.

The air smelled of incense again and I tentatively opened one eye. Sure enough, I was back in the Wizard’s tower standing next to the tome which was now charred black and smoking faintly. My hand trembled in his and I felt Marlon’s strong, warm hands lowering me down to a sitting position on the floor. My mouth felt like sandpaper and I felt lightheaded and hungry all of a sudden. Marlon passed me a small vial of something red while the Wizard dipped a metal ladle in an oak tub and poured it into a metal cup and passed it to me.

“This is a small dose of life elixir.” Marlon said. “Take it first and then drink some water.”

“What just happened to me?” I croaked.

The Wizard’s expression was vague but his voice held an air of pride, “You mortals call it ‘Astral Projection.’ Essentially I sent your consciousness out of your body and into the Junimo’s sanctuary. This form of travel is temporary and its use is limited, but I find it useful in rare occasions such as this.”

I uncorked the vial and drank the red liquid. Surprisingly, the brew tasted a bit like strawberry jelly with a savory aftertaste. The water was cold and I downed the metal cup in several greedy swallows. Strength surged back into my body and I stood up on my own feeling like myself once again.

“So the Junimo’s sanctuary is in the Secret Woods?”

“It’s in another plane in the Secret Woods.” The Wizard corrected. “Junimos are not beholden to one planar system or another. They can cross any and all worlds provided that the natural world is powerful enough and healthy enough for them to stay. The Junimos can be found anywhere there’s a strong presence of natural power. The Secret Woods is ancient and the trees there are old enough to sustain and project the Junimos … at least for now.”

“They asked if I would become their champion. And I think they want me to leave them offerings or something. How would I even do that? Do I just leave them on my porch or what?”

Marlon chuckled, “The Community Center used to have a shrine in honor of the Junimos before the great conversion. Erika would often sneak in there after Sunday service to leave small offerings to the Junimos.”

I frowned, “I thought the Community Center use to be a school.”

“It was a school. And a community center, and the Mayor’s office before Lewis came to town, and a place for people to congregate and share stories about their farm work or adventuring. The building may be old and decrepit now, but fifty years ago, the place was a hub of activity for the town. So what better place than to discretely hide a shrine to minor deities that protect the town and promote growth, health, and fertility, hm?”

“So then why did Erika have to hide her religion if she worshiped a deity that held similar values to her?” I asked.

Marlon’s expression darkened and he cocked a grey bushy eyebrow in a sardonic reply. “Why are we fighting the Gotoro Empire right now? The human race has a hard time identifying and valuing similarities in cultures, especially when obsessing and hating peoples’ differences can turn a profit. My wife had to hide her religion because the Junimos aren’t Yoba. That’s pretty much it.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Very stupid.” Marlon agreed. “Unfortunately, the old bigoted beliefs still linger in Pelican Town — especially among the old — so I’d advise that you keep your investigation of the Community Center and your interest in the Junimos discreet.”

I nodded, “Are there any townsfolk whom I should be wary of?”

The Wizard spat, “The shopkeeper is a worm. If he even sniffs out that you’ve been dabbling in “the occult” as he calls it, he’ll probably throw you out of his store. His — his wife only attends services because it makes her husband happy. Bah…”

I frowned. Pierre was a little bit of a stick-in-the-mud and the family did have the church attached to their own house. Come to think of it, Caroline had been bugging me to attend services just like Grandpa did when he was alive. Uh oh.

“Caroline and Pierre.” I muttered to myself. “Got it. Anyone else?”

“Lewis and The Mullners are the last of the old guard.” Marlon replied. “If anyone else in town practices, they’re either private about it, or they’re not militant about their beliefs.”

“Ooookay.” I drawled. “So once I find this shrine in the Community Center, then what? Do I just give it offerings, and if so, then how will those offerings help stop whatever the hell is happening to me?”

The Wizard sighed, “As long as the Swamp Witch’s corruption lies dormant in your veins, you’ll feel the slow ebb of your vitality fade as the year goes on. With each offering, the Junimos will provide you with a small amount of their power to counteract the corruption. I hate to be dramatic here, but your very life depends on these offerings.”

Marlon rolled his eyes, “You love being dramatic Rasmodius.” Then he turned to me and gently grabbed my left hand and brushed my jacket sleeve up to reveal my arm. “Morgan, you’ll start to see the signs of corruption as soon as we leave the Wizard’s tower. As the corruption spreads, it will travel up your arm and into your shoulder, but once it gets to your heart, you’ll be gone.”

My voice sounded weak and childish, “Gone as in dead or gone as in …?”

“You’ll belong to the Swamp Witch.” He replied. “You will be lost to us and so will Henry.”

“So not dead?” I clarified with a nervous chuckle.

The Wizard’s expression darkened, “I know the Swamp Witch. If she’s planning to use your blood to corrupt the world, I’d say that death would be a preferable alternative.”

Marlon shot the man a withering expression and I thought I heard him hiss, “You’re not helping” under his breath.

I took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes.

“Can you handle this Morgan?” The Wizard asked.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“No. You don’t.” Marlon replied.

I opened my eyes and plastered a sardonically cheery expression on my face. “Great. Wonderful. No pressure at all. I totally got this.”

Marlon touched my forearm, “I have faith in you. But know that you don’t have to do this alone.”

His gesture was touching and I placed my hand over his. “Thank you.”

The Wizard cleared his throat, “Now I hate to break up this moment, but I have some time sensitive things to take care of.”

Marlon gave him a polite nod and guided me towards the door. “He’s right. We should go.”

“Wait wait wait! There’s no need to walk all the way back.” The Wizard remarked. “Allow me.”

Rasmodius looked at both of us with an intense and enigmatic expression. Two of the rings on his hand glittered and the room dissolved from view once again. Immediately, my farm blurred into view and I heard birds singing and I smelled the damp soil and manure from my pasture. Marlon’s hand was still on mine and we both blinked at each other.

“Damn wizards.” He grumbled. “He just did that to show off, ya know.”

I smirked at his curmudgeonly reaction to some pretty astonishing magic. “At least he saved us from having to walk back.”

Marlon grunted in irritation and tugged his cape back over his shoulder. Evening had turned the sky a rusty gold and I realized that we had been in the Wizard’s tower for almost eight hours.

“How…” I started but my grandfather shook his head.

“Time acts differently there.” He murmured. “Don’t ask me how because I don’t know. Sometimes I’ll go in there for a chat and lose a week of time. I’m just glad we only lost a few hours this time.”

“Really? Weird…”

“That’s a wizard for ya.” He shook his head. “Once you explore that Community Center, come and see me up at the Guild. I’ve got a present for ya and maybe we can get down to the particulars of how to stop the corruption.”

“I can walk you back to the Guild.” I offered. “It’s getting late and I don’t want you to twist an ankle on a pothole or something.”

He snorted. “ I ‘preciate the thought but I’ve got a little trick up my sleeve. Goodnight Morgan.”

Marlon withdrew something from his pocket. It looked like a talisman of some sort and he put it around his neck, squeezed it, and disappeared from sight with a flash of red light.”

The limbs of the budding trees rustled as a wind kicked up and I felt a tingling sensation in my palm. Sure enough, a thin black mark extended out from a small red dot at the center of my palm. It curled around the dot in the shape of a spiral. I traced the pattern with my finger. It didn’t hurt but I did feel the heat coming from it, similar to how you can feel the heat from a bad sunburn.

The corruption had started and I was now running against a clock. A year was a long time when you had a full life ahead of you, but now, I felt my own mortality … or at least my freedom … hanging over my head like an executioner’s blade.

There was no time to waste. I went into the house to grab my headlamp, change into dark clothes, and eat something. Once night fell, I was going to explore the Community Center and get some answers once and for all.

Or at least so I hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the in-game cutscene where you meet the Junimos is way more trippy than how I wrote it here. Truth be told, I was never a fan of that cutscene because I got "you drink a hallucinogenic potion" vibes from the game which gets problematic with a female protagonist. So I fiddled with the lore a tad.


	9. Breaking and Entering (Rated G)

Chapter 9 — Breaking and Entering (Rated G)

March 9th, evening (Spring)

The Community Center used to be a quaint and welcoming building. The giant clock above the door would chime every hour on the hour, and when the wind blew from the East, you could hear the gentle chiming all the way at Grandpa’s farm. All of the town’s kids — me included — made this spot an unofficial club house. But now, I approached what remained of the once-beloved structure, I felt a faint ache in my heart to see just how far the building had fallen.

The children in the town used to draw pictures and cut out silhouettes of merry Jack-O-Lanterns, Father Winter and his sleigh, and daisies and tulips out of construction paper and hang them in the windows. Now both of the windows were busted. Shards of glass jutted out like sharp teeth ready to devour any trespasser. I made a mental note to watch for glass on the floor. The last thing I needed was a visit to Harvey’s for a tetanus shot.

I approached the crumbling concrete stoop. The wooden flower boxes that sat on either side of the stoop’s wrought iron railings were filled with decaying leaves, litter, and dead thorny plants. Evelyn and her late sister used to plant their rare yellow roses in these flower boxes. They gave off the most pleasant smell but they also attracted bees, and a twinge of anxiety crept up my spine at the memory. I. Hate. Bees.

I went up the crumbling concrete steps and tried the rusted door knob. Of course the place was locked up tight. Despite the building’s age, the door wouldn’t budge and I didn’t feel right about trying to kick the door in. Instead I took one of the wrought iron pieces that had rusted off the railing and ran it along the bottom of the window to knock away any glass that still might be there. I stepped in the dead flower box, bounced a couple of times to build up momentum, and boosted myself up and onto the wooden windowsill. The smaller shards of glass bit into the thick leather of my work gloves. I grunted in effort as I braced myself in the windowsill like an oversized cat and not-so-gracefully tumbled through the window and onto the floor inside.

A tornado of dust swirled around my face. I coughed and felt my palms, knees, and legs for any stray glass that might’ve gotten stuck in my skin. Once I was satisfied that I wasn’t injured, I flicked on my headlight and looked around the room.

The inside of the Community Center was worse than the outside. Piles of leaves accumulated in corners and I half-wondered and half-assumed that small critters like mice or even rats had made their nests beneath the detritus. These weren’t the types of leaf piles to jump into. The recent snowmelt, rain, and the untold years of rot made them look like piles of gunk.

Next, I glanced up towards the ceiling and wished I hadn’t. Spider webs covered almost every corner, to make matters worse, the webs were bulging with insects, some that weren’t yet dead and their occasional panicked buzzing made my stomach churn.  
The giant fireplace that dominated the room was empty and cold. The metal grate that sat around the hearth as a protective fence was knocked over and soot mingled with the dust that collected on the floor. The large fish tank (my favorite feature) was empty. Broken glass covered the bottom of the tank and glittered on the floor amid the dead leaves. The top frame in the tank was broken, nearly cut in half actually, and it looked like something had fallen across the tank which made the entire thing shatter.

I walked forward a few steps and the wooden floorboards beneath me groaned in protest. I shifted my stance and my weight as though I was walking across thin ice and made my way across the room towards the hallway.

When this building had been a school, this hallway led to the kitchen and to the library, but when I was a child, this hallway led to the game room and to a store room where snacks, yard games, and old paperwork were kept. My headlamp light bounced off the flaking wallpaper and I went farther down the hallway until I heard a noise off to my right. I shined my headlamp into the room half-hoping that whatever I heard had scurried away.

“Hello?” I half-whispered.

Nobody answered back so I tentatively crept into the old game room and saw a heavy tome, similar to the one that Wizard used, sitting in the middle of the floor. The book was clearly old; its cover was made out of a thin scratchy cloth-like material which was tearing at the seams to reveal the cardboard beneath. There was no title on the front cover or on the spine. In fact, there was nothing written on the outside of the book at all.

I gingerly opened the book and let the pages fall naturally where they may.

_This is insane! I will not throw away my child’s life for this!_

I spun around in shock. That voice belonged to my mom.

_Diane, please try to understand!_

_NO! You understand! Our daughter will not be used as an offering for some forest spirits!_

Forest spirits? My face felt hot and I felt a dull pressure pulse behind my eyes. I looked down at the book and the runic markings that were there glittered in the darkness.

_She is not an offering Diane. Morgan is the next protector of this valley, just as I was, and just as my mother was, and —_

_She is just a child Henry!_

_The Swamp Witch doesn’t care about that! If she gets ahold of Morgan —_

_She’s not going to get a hold of her. Morgan is never unsupervised and you were the one who insisted on teaching Morgan how to use a sword. She’s turning six not sixteen! Sometimes I think you want more out of her than what she can physically give. Morgan is just a child. Let her be a child Henry!_

I sank to the ground as the strength left my body. I remembered hearing that fight. I remembered hiding beneath Grandpa’s bed with Peter the Rabbit clutched in my hand. I remembered the confusion I felt and the pain over the fact that my parents were upset with each other.

I clutched my knees to my chest and rested my forehead in my hands. The temperature was dropping as night descended, and soon I could see my breath in the stark white light of my headlamp. The outside cold didn’t bother me. It was the block of ice that sat in my gut which hurt.

While I appreciated that my Mom was trying to protect me, in the end my father was right. Like it or not, I was the only one who could protect this town and stop the Swamp Witch. I wasn’t exactly happy about the situation, but I couldn’t stomach the alternative. If I didn’t do something, then Henry would remain chained to the Swamp Witch forever as her pet, my Mother and brother could die, and I’d be corrupted. Elliott would lose me. My farm … my business would collapse, and the entire town would be in danger.

My Mom was right. That kind of responsibility wasn’t something a child should bear, but I wasn’t a child anymore. I looked at the book on the floor and crawled towards it. As soon as my skin touched the parchment, the golden light from the tome crawled up my left arm like ivy. A pleasant and warm vibration accompanied the sensation and I watched the light travel up to my shoulder, down my neck and stop at my heart.

My pulse raced and I felt light-headed but I couldn’t move my hand from the tome. The entire room glowed in golden radiance and a gust of wind blew from out of nowhere kicking up dead leaves and dirt. I squeezed my eyes shut and the sounds of chirping Junimos surrounded me. Then as suddenly as it started it all ended and I was left in deafening silence with my hand still touching the parchment.

I opened one eye and saw nothing out of the ordinary, so I opened both and pulled my hand away from the book. My headlamp had turned off, so I just sat there in the darkness waiting for my pulse and breathing to slow.

Once I felt well enough to move, I stood up and my hands on my pants. Then I tried to turn my headlamp on but the button clicked and nothing happened. The batteries were dead. So I took out my cell phone and used the dim blue light from the ancient LED screen to guide me back towards the main room. Right as I was leaving the room, my hip bumped against something that I could’ve sworn wasn’t there a few minute ago. When I shone my light over the obstacle, I saw that it was a golden wicker basket with a note attached to the top which read: We desire offerings of green beans, parsnips, cauliflower, and potatoes.

Huh?

I read the note again. It sounded more like a shopping list than a message that forest spirits would leave. But then again, Rasmodius did say that I would have to leave offerings for the Junimos in exchange for their protection. Maybe this list was the first set of offerings that they wanted. In a way, I was grateful for the mundane items. I was worried the offerings would be rare or expensive. I didn’t know that much about other religions, but typically offerings to Gods involved the slaughtering of animals … and sometimes humans. I was just happy that a batch of my spring crops would be enough.

I used my cell phone to guide me out towards the sitting room, but once I got out there I saw two flashlights shining around the windows.

“I could’ve sworn that I saw something glowing inside here.” Pierre said. Then he called out, “Abby, is that you? If you’re in there you better not be messing around or lighting stuff on fire.”

There was a pause and then Pierre’s next response was stern and threatening, “If you’ve been smoking pot again, I swear that you’ll be grounded for life, missy!”

Then another voice chimed in, “I have a key for this place. Let’s just do a quick sweep and then get back to the Saloon. Jodi’s on her way back from the airport with Kent. They should be here in a half an hour.”

That voice belonged to Mayor Lewis, and I heard his keys jangle just as I slipped back down the hallway. I was trapped. The two front windows and the door were the only ways out of the building. The other windows had been boarded up long ago. I thought about Rasmodius’s and Marlon’s warning about not trusting these two in any Junimo-related matters. If they caught me in here, they’d want to know why I broke in. What would they say if I mentioned that I was leaving offerings for the Junimos? Would I get run out of town? Would I be arrested for breaking and entering? Hell, did this town even have a jail?

“I’ll check down this hallway and you go check the basement.” Mayor Lewis said.

I clasped my hand over my mouth just as a scream tried to escape. It still sounded like a small squeak and so I ducked behind the golden wicker basket and tucked myself into the corner as best as I could.

Just as Lewis’s flashlight beam scanned across the room, I saw a large yellow Junimo run out from the shadows and cross Lewis’s light. The scream that man made was loud enough to make me jump, and hilarious enough that I had to bite my tongue to stifle insane giggles that had replaced my complete and utter fear.

“What did you find!” Pierre called out.  
“Yoba! I forgot that this place is infested with rats!” Lewis squealed. “I hate rats. C’mon. I didn’t find anyone in here. Let’s just lock up and go back. Whoever was here has probably run off. I’ll post some No Trespassing signs tomorrow just to remind the youth that this property isn’t a playground.”

Pierre’s footsteps came up the stairs. “And I’ll keep a closer watch on Abby just in case. I swear, that girl is going to give me grey hair. She’s almost twenty but she acts like she’s half that age.”

Mayor Lewis murmured something unintelligible but it sounded sympathetic and sincere.

“Ha! I want to kick her out, but Caroline doesn’t want her to leave the nest just yet. She’s our only child. She might drive us up the wall, but when all is said and done, she’s still our little girl.”

Pierre’s voice faded as both men left the building. I heard the front door close with a sudden and decisive thud, and the heavy deadbolt clicked. I counted slowly to sixty before I dared to move from my spot.

Once I did move, I caught a glimpse of the Junimo that ran interference for me. I squatted down and offered my hand for it to smell me. I don’t know what I was thinking. The creature wasn’t a dog. And once I held out my hand, the damn thing scurried onto it like an overgrown spider. Its tiny feet felt like the faint tickling of a daddy longlegs spider and I had to clench my other fist so I didn’t throw the poor creature against the wall out of instinct.

The Junimo just looked up at me with its beady black eyes. Then it settled down in my palm and began scratching itself with one of its back legs. The thing was kinda cute in a strange, alien way.

“Thank you for that distraction.” I whispered. “I will be back with some nice produce for your box. How does that sound?”

The Junimo chirped happily and danced in my palm before scurrying off into a tiny mouse hole in the wall.

It took me a good ten minutes to creep my way out towards the front room. I waited until it was well past nine in the evening just to ensure that anyone who might’ve been coming from the Saloon was already in their houses or in bed.

I took a running start to vault myself up into the window. From this angle, it took me a couple of tries before I managed to push myself up just high enough to get my boot wedged into the sill as well. My exit was just as ungraceful. I landed in the dead flower box and rolled off it and into the grass. I caught the flower box with my ribs and I knew I’d have a gnarly bruise in a couple of days. Nevertheless, I managed to get back on my feet and crept back to the farm.

Golden waited for me like a parent waiting for her daughter to get home after breaking curfew. Her yellow eyes watched me from the kitchen window, and once I opened my front door, she let out a series of indignant meows as she walked to her food bowl and waited for me.

“I know. I know.” I told the cat. “I’m sorry that I’m late.”

I grabbed the dry cat food from the shelve and scooped out her nightly portion. Then I refilled her water dish and I turned the stove on to make myself some tea before bed. I leaned against the kitchen countertop feeling mentally drained and physically exhausted.

I turned on the small TV that was perched on the corner of the countertop and flipped the knob to the weather channel. On cloudy nights like this, the weather channel was the only station I received with any regularity, but even tonight, the channel had a faint white haze that covered the picture.

The ticker tape along the bottom of the screen read out the various temperatures for major cities across the Ferngill Republic. The weather woman on screen was dressed in a smart-looking business suit as she pointed to a giant map and explained the forecast for the next ten days. According to her, Zuzu City — and by extension, all of Stardew Valley, was to expect rain over the next couple of days.

That made me smile. Rain was a boon for farmers and fishermen alike. The time that it took for me to do chores was cut down in half when it rained, which meant that I’d have the time and the energy to get some fishing in. As long as it was only rain and not thunder or lightning, fishing in the rain often proved to be more successful than fishing on the sunniest of days.

I pulled down a coffee mug from the cupboard and set a tea bag in the mug. Then I took the kettle off the stove just as it started to whistle and poured the hot liquid into my mug. I could already feel myself relax as the aroma of peppermint hit my nose.

Golden continued to crunch away at her cat food while I turned the stove off and brought my tea into the living room. The nights were chilly, but it wasn’t cold enough to justify starting a fire, so I pulled one of Elliott’s heavy blankets off the couch and draped it over my shoulders before settling back on the couch. The blanket smelled like him and the peppermint reminded me of him. I sipped my tea and stared off into the distance.

The ambient sounds of the cabin lulled me into a meditative state. I heard the leaves on the trees rustle in the gentle evening breeze. I even heard the tiny splashing sounds as Golden drank from her water dish. I was in such a state of relaxation and peace that the sound of my phone’s text message alert jolted me painfully back into reality.

I opened my phone and read the message from Elliott.

_My love, I found some information on the Junimos in the Alexandria library. I’m having it sent to Gunther through the school’s inter-library loan system since your phone lacks internet capabilities._

I smiled as I drank some more tea. I just loved the fact that Elliott texted in proper sentences. Sure, his phone was more advanced than mine but I couldn’t imagine how annoying it got to write out lengthy messages without abbreviating things in text speak.

I typed my reply back. I didn’t typically

_Thank you. I checked out the Community Center today. And I met a Wizard. It was quite the day._

His reply was quick. _You met a Wizard?!_

_Can you call me? It’s not something I can explain over the phone._

_I’m afraid not. I’m working with my father until the library closes at midnight. Shall we have breakfast over the phone tomorrow? I noticed it’s supposed to rain there tomorrow which means you get to sleep in._

_You watch the weather channel at work but you can’t make calls over your phone? ;-)_

_Haha. I have weather alerts sent to my phone. … And it looks like it’s back to work. My father is about to make his rounds. I love you._

_I love you too._ I typed out.

Golden had finished her dinner and jumped up onto the couch with me. Until I moved to the bedroom, she’d find a way to worm her massive bulk as close to me as possible. I suspect she was trying to steal my warmth. Nevertheless, I didn’t dare move less I disturb Her Majesty’s cat nap. So I set the tea on the coffee table and stroked the thick fur along her back. Her purring could’ve put a boat motor to shame, and soon her contented purring lulled me to sleep.


	10. Soul Searching (Rated G)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more introspective as Morgan pieces through the emotional weight of recent events. It’s a slower chapter that involves some discussions of spirituality and the in-game religion. 
> 
> Here’s the breakdown of the Raymond family’s spiritual beliefs:
> 
> Morgan’s grandfather (as has been mentioned in earlier chapters) is a devout follower of Yoba. He’s the type who would say grace over dinner and still follow the general teachings of that religion, but due to the farmwork, he’d rarely make it to church service. 
> 
> Morgan’s mother is more of the “seasonal” worshiper who goes to church on major religious holidays out of tradition and obligation. 
> 
> Morgan is even less devout. She believes in the concept of Yoba but she doesn’t go to church. Religion is a way for her to connect to her grandfather’s traditions and to his memory, and that’s about it.
> 
> Elliott’s entire family is atheist (as was established in the previous story). From an academic anthropological standpoint, Elliott would probably study theology (since he has a background in philosophy), but he’s not adherent to any sort of world-view except for maybe humanism (in its very basic and distilled beliefs).
> 
> Disclaimer: The beliefs about a monothestic religion are merely Morgan’s beliefs and they are not meant to reflect my own personal background or feelings. Ya'll can believe or not believe in whatever you want.

Chapter 10 - Soul Searching (Rated G)

March 14th (Spring)

“You really like this work, don’t you?”

Shane and I sat on my front stoop wiping the sweat from our faces as we drank from our water bottles. I peeled off my work gloves and rested the rake against the porch edge. My palms were on fire and I could feel blisters coming on, but I felt suitably exhausted and proud.

“Yeah. I really do.” I answered him. “Running a farm is hard work, as you obviously know, but I feel like this is my purpose. Uck, that sounds corny but --”

\-- “No.” Shane interjected, “I think that sounds nice. I still haven’t figured out mine.”

I looked at Shane. His cheeks were rosy from the physical exertion but he was looking good, a lot better since I last saw him, actually. He had lost about twenty pounds and there was an alertness in his eyes that was previously dulled from the alcohol.

After Shane’s suicide attempt last winter, he had been attending weekly therapy appointments that had eventually scaled back to bi-weekly. I only knew about this because Marnie had asked if I would milk her cows on Wednesdays because Shane was in Zuzu City for his night class and for therapy and couldn’t do it, and she couldn’t do it because she was running the front shop.

So I agreed. I was happy to help out, and Marnie always sent me back home with perks. Sometimes she’d send me home with an extra casserole that she just “forgot” that she had prepared and sitting in the freezer. Other times she insisted that I take a bag of chicken feed for free. I understood why she was doing this. She couldn’t pay me a physical wage and the town mostly worked on a barter system anyways. Adding three more cows to my morning milking routine wasn’t excessively hard work, and I knew that helping your neighbor out was just the right thing to do.

Marnie had a similar idea, and when she overheard me complaining to Leah about the raking that I didn’t get done last fall (on account of my bout of ‘meningitis’), she volunteered Shane to come over and help me once the snow fully melted. I felt bad for Shane, but he didn’t seem to mind. Sober Shane was introverted like me and so we mostly worked in silence as the classic rock station on the radio pumped out some great tunes.

I took a drink of water and I looked at Shane again. He looked back at me and smiled. It wasn’t a beaming sort of smile, but it was a small, self-satisfied one. A kind of smile that someone might have after a long, hard day of satisfying work.

“Are you ready to tackle the area behind the old greenhouse?”

I winced. I hadn’t mowed the grass back there since I got to Pelican Town. I doubted whether we could even get our rakes through there at all, so I went back to the toolshed and hefted grandpa’s old scythe across my shoulder.

“Let’s get to it.” I replied.

Shane picked up the boombox from the stump and grabbed our water bottles and his rake.

He nodded to me. His clear dark eyes were alert and wide with determination.

“As Marnie always says, ‘More hands makes less work.’”

* * *

March 20th (Spring) 

“One. Two. No, again.”

I sighed in annoyance.

Marlon came at me with a wooden sword. His strikes were hard and it sent vibrations through my own sword and down into my hands. Not even the four hours of raking with Shane could’ve caused my hands as much grief as sword fighting did.

“One hand.” He barked.

I dropped my left hand to my side and did my best to hold the wooden sword up. It didn’t seem all that heavy when we had started training but now the damn thing felt like a lead pipe and my shoulder was screaming in pain.

“Keep the count in your head.” Marlon said. “Hit. Hit. Hit. Block. One, two, three, and four. Got it?”

It had been the twentieth time he asked if I ‘got it’ and my hunger-induced temper was rising to my tongue.

I squared my jaw and just nodded. He came at me again. Our swords met once, twice, and — Fuck! His wooden sword struck across my knuckles and I dropped my own weapon to the ground.

“You blocked when you should’ve striked.” Marlon replied sagely. He picked up my sword and passed it to me. I shook my head and flexed the fingers on my right hand. They tingled and frustrated tears sprung to my eyes.

“I’ve had enough.” I said throatily. “You win. I concede.”

Marlon grunted. I was starting to learn that his grunting was more of a passive-aggressive ‘suit yourself’ sort of grunt where he didn’t agree with my decision but he wasn’t going to fight me on it either.

“You won’t get better if you don’t practice.” He said.

“I am practicing!”

Marlon cocked a bushy eyebrow at me. He grunted again. This time the grunt was him doubting me.

“I do!” I exclaimed.

Another grunt. ‘Keep fooling yourself’. The grunt said.

Marlon passed me my sword and I slid the wooden blade into an actual sheath. We started this sword fighting training the day after I told him about what happened at the Community Center. Marlon told me that some of the items that were offerings for the Junimos were found in the vast cave systems in the mountain mine. But he wanted to make sure I could take care of myself before he unlocked the mine entrance. At the rate my training was going, I wasn’t going to be let into the mines until mid-winter.

“Alright, fine. How can I train on my own then?”

Marlon walked over to a pine tree and plucked a dead branch off the ground. He snapped it over his leg and handed me one half. The bough was several inches in circumference and it felt like I was holding a small log rather than a branch.

“Hit your opponent.” Marlon said and he gestured at the tree.

I gave him a baleful look, sighed, and then I stepped closer to the tree’s trunk. I adjusted my grip on the makeshift weapon and struck the tree and followed through with a backhand strike to the left side.

Marlon’s mustache twitched in amusement while my hand rang out with uncomfortable tingling numbness.

“Good. Now do that … oh … let’s say about one thousand times per day and I think you’ll be more accustomed to absorbing the blows when we next train.”

I sighed and took the stick and leaned it up against the tree trunk. My right palm was tender and I couldn’t grasp anything without feeling a sensitive ache shoot up my forearm.

“See you next week.” I said glumly.

Marlon nodded, “Next week it is.”

He clasped my shoulder and gently squeezed. Neither of us were huggers and that sort of gesture didn’t seem terribly appropriate. He was my paternal grandfather, but we were still getting to know each other. Marlon gathered up the equipment that he brought out to the training ground and brought it back into The Adventure Guild. I waited until he made it inside the lodge before I gathered up my own things and trudged my way down the hillside and back towards town.

My stomach rumbled and the sun was setting. Greasy food and warm hoppy beer wafted through the air. My mouth watered and I made my way towards the Saloon without really thinking about what I was doing.

The place was busy for a weeknight. Most of the bar was full. Pierre, Dr. Harvey, Clint, and Willy occupied the front bar stools. Pam sat in her usual spot in the corner. I could’ve slid into Shane’s old spot (as he was playing Journey of the Prairie King in the arcade with Sam), but I didn’t want Pierre to strike up a conversation with me in which I’d accidentally incriminate myself about my trespassing in the Community Center.

“Hey Morgan! I’ll be with you in a minute. Just help yourself to any open seat.” Emily said.

I scanned the dining area and found a two-top table tucked away in the corner. As I sat down, I noticed a tan-faced man with bleach blond hair staring off into the distance. It took me a moment to realize that was Sam’s dad, Kent. I wouldn’t have recognized the man if he hadn’t been wearing his army green jacket with the name tag on the chest that said Underhill. Three yellow chevron patches were stitched onto his right arm. I didn’t know anything about the military, but I did know that Kent was a lifer. He joined up when Sam was a baby, so I assumed that he had to be someone of importance. As much as it pained my introverted self to do so, I figured that I should say hi.

I cleared my throat and spoke loud enough to be heard over the idle bar chatter. “Hey Kent! Welcome home!”

His eyes scanned up to meet mine. His eyes were pale blue and they carried a depth to them that was both intense and haunting.

“Morgan? Is that really you?” His brow furrowed as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Yoba you’ve grown up. How long has it been?”

“A while.” I replied with a small grin.

“I didn’t know that you were back. I heard about Adolph’s death. My condolences.”

“Thank you.” I replied. “And maybe you haven’t heard, but he willed the farm to me. I moved here in the Spring.”

“I did hear. That’s wonderful.” Kent replied with a tired smile. “Sam tells me that the farm is thriving. You truly are Adolph’s granddaughter.”

I blushed at the praise.

“By the way, thank you for your service to the Republic.” I said.

His expression darkened when I said that and he stared off into the air above my shoulder. “Yeah. Well …” He cleared his throat. “Just glad to be home, that’s all. Glad to be retired. Glad to live to see another birthday.”

“It’s your birthday! Oh shit, sorry. I didn’t know.”

Kent shook his head and brushed my apology away. “Don’t worry about it. Once you get over the hill in your age, birthdays don’t matter as much anymore.”

I did the mental math based on what he said. Wow. Kent was only 40. I knew that the military life and the stress of being in an active warzone aged you, but I never expected that Sam’s dad was so young. Sam was a little younger than me. He was old enough to drink which meant that Kent had Sam when he was 19. Yoba, that’s young.

Kent finished the last dregs of his beer and left a pile of gold stacked neatly on the table for Emily.

“Enjoy your dinner, Morgan. I’ll see you around.”

The man got up and slipped through the front door without anyone noticing. Maybe folks were just too focused on their dinners or too engrossed in the conversation, but the fact that nobody even acknowledged his presence made me feel uneasy.

“Hoo boy.” Emily said with a good-natured smile. “Sorry ‘bout the wait Morgan. Everyone must’ve had the same idea for dinner tonight -- not that I’m complaining. I’m just getting some kinda weird vibes in here today.”

“Weird? How so?”

Emily stuck her blue ballpoint pen behind her ear. Red gemstones shone in her earlobes and the gold stud in her nose contrasted with her pale skin. She lowered her voice a little and stooped over to whisper, “The Welwick Oracle foretold that the spirits were very displeased today.”

I bit my tongue to stop myself from laughing. Emily believed in the occult and this New Age stuff with the same devout reverence as Evelyn had for The Sign of the Vessel and Yoba. Far be it for me to judge someone on their personal beliefs, but after the mostly shitty past few days that I had, I wondered if there was more to that fortune teller channel than I originally thought.

“Well, what can you do about bad luck?” I asked. “The way I see it, you either have bad luck or you don’t. You can’t really control it.”

“That’s true.” Emily agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t fight against it.”

I snorted at that. “Seems like that’s been the only thing I’ve been fighting against.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And she was.

“Thanks.” I said wearily. Suddenly I wasn’t all that hungry anymore, and I mostly just wanted to go to bed. “Hey Emily, can I put in an order of french fries to go? My body is trying to decide which I want to do more: eat or sleep, and sleep is winning.”

“You can’t just eat french fries for dinner.” She chided teasingly. It was a comment that if it came from anyone else, I’d tell them that I was a grown ass woman and to mind their own business, but coming from Emily, I knew she was just trying to look out for me.

“I’ll put in an order of fries and I’ll slip you some of our leftover winter root and crab gumbo.”

“You don’t have --”

Emily held up her hand and shook her head. “It’s on the house. Trust me. Gus would be upset with me if I let you leave here on a hungry stomach. Besides, I was going to throw the gumbo out at the end of my shift. It only keeps for a few days. You’d be doing me a favor and easing my guilt about wasted food.”

“You and Gus are too good to me.” I said.

Her smile brightened. “Nonsense. Just pay it forward. If you send good vibes out into the universe, you’ll get them right back.”

After I left the Saloon, I made my way back down the dirt road with my food. Emily had packaged my fries up in a cardboard to-go box. They smelled greasy and amazing; my mouth watered just thinking about them...and I might’ve snuck a few out of the box as a snack on my way back home. The last of Gus’s gumbo sat in a closed Tupperware bowl which I promised to bring back to him after I washed it. Delivering food this way probably wasn’t up to the strictest of health codes, but after watching a documentary about pollution I was trying to use less styrofoam. I mean...the amount of trash that I pulled out of the lakes, rivers, and oceans when I went fishing spoke volumes to the pollution problem in Pelican Town.

The walk back home was serene. My breath came out in visible puffs of white vapor and the cloudless sky and moonless night opened the sky to a blanket of stars. I looked upward and smiled. Some of the larger stars twinkled while the smaller ones were clustered together in a fine white speckled blanket. It looked like someone took a paintbrush full of white paint and splattered paint across a wet canvas. Blues and deep violets gave way to dark blues and midnight blacks.

I thought back to the evenings where grandpa and I would lay down in the pasture on his thick wool blanket and stargaze. He once told me that all troubles seem less important when you look to the heavens and realize just how small we all are in the grand scheme of things. We’re just one tiny dot in a sea of unknowns. I mean, Grandpa had his faith in Yoba to help guide him and I had my faith in him. “Had” being the painfully accurate version of the word.

After everything unfolded, I tried to not let my thoughts linger too long on my grandfather. I mean, part of that was because I didn’t want to trigger some long lost memory, but thinking about him now that I knew the truth burned me up inside. Betrayal was a horrible sensation, and sadness didn’t get close to describing how I was feeling.

I made it back to the cabin and realized that I had lost my appetite. I was hungry for something else. Answers, maybe. But I needed to know the truth. I needed to know why grandpa lied to me all these years. I went into the cabin, put my food in the fridge, and walked right back outside with a purpose in mind. What I was about to do seemed silly. If Elliott was here, maybe I’d feel self-conscious about putting so much faith in a God or in religion, but talking with Grandpa worked once before. Okay...talking was too generous, but he communicated with me last Winter’s Eve. Maybe he’d communicate with me again.

The beam from my headlamp made the large oak and pine trees that grew in the corner of the property seem even more imposing. The weeds and brambles that I had yet to clear were still dead, but a few thorny bushes had enough teeth to pull at my thick jacket sleeves and at my blue jeans. The mossy ground was soft and still slightly damp from the snowmelt and the rain, and it felt like I was walking on thick carpeting.

Dead leaves covered Grandpa’s grave. I brushed them off and I scooped out the muddy and slushy ice-snow that was left over in the four candle holders. I didn’t bring any candles with me this time, but that was fine. I didn’t need grandpa to answer back. I just needed him to listen.

My breathing came out soft, short gasps as grief and frustration gripped my heart. Hot tears burned my eyes and I stared at my grandpa’s grave willing him to hear me.

“Yoba damn it, Grandpa. I’m mad at you.” I told him in a low, gravely voice.

Oh that’s a good start, I admonished myself. Let’s just keep going. Let’s get all of the blaspheming out now.

I sighed. “Why did you lie to me? Better yet, why did you let mom lie to me? How could you stand having me around knowing that a part of me was magically erased? That part of my memories of you were erased, too?”

My anger started spilling out like waves crashing upon the beach. I don’t care if what I was saying didn’t make sense. I had feelings and they just needed to be said.

“Damn it … I -- I --TRUSTED YOU!” I shouted.

My tears spilled down my cheeks and landed on the forest floor. My nose plugged up and my throat was slightly sore from shouting, but I didn’t care. I was on a roll and I couldn’t stop now.

“Damn it, Grandpa! You and Mom let me believe that I grew up my entire life with a layabout father. You let Mom tell me that my father ran out on her and that he was useless. You made him into the enemy, and that affected me! I needed a father, Grandpa! And you were there in the summers, sure, but during the school year, I needed someone who could be proud of me. Someone who could go to parent-teacher conferences with me, or help me with my math homework. A man in my life who loved me! Mom tried, but she was always working. And Chuck tried, but he’s not my father. And you took that from me!”

I thought about how I felt when I saw Henry for the first time up at the Adventure Guild. I recognized our physical similarities right away, and although I was guarded and cautious, a small part of me wanted nothing more than to get to know him. I wanted him to know me. I wanted to dive into these past twenty years and tell him everything about my schools, about my childhood friends and becoming the regional president of the Future Business Leaders of Ferngill club. Maybe if he was around, he could’ve given me advice about Brandon (or maybe in true Dad-fashion, he would’ve recognized Brandon’s awfulness and chased him away from me with a shotgun). But I didn’t get to do any of those things. For the past two decades, I always thought that my father left because of me...because he didn’t want me. I thought that I was the problem.

A gust of wind kicked up which threw the dead leaves on the forest floor into a mini tornado. I pulled up the hood on my jacket and stuffed my bare hands into my pockets. Grandpa’s grave sat inert and cold. I felt exhausted. Emotionally, I was tapped dry.

I was about to head back to the cabin, but then I heard my grandfather’s voice calling out from the darkness.

_“Morgan?! Morgan, where are you sweet pea?!”_

“Grandpa?” I croaked.

Then I heard my mom’s frantic voice.

_“Morgan! Morgan! Where are you?!”_

Sheer terror gripped my heart and I bolted back towards the cabin. The light from my headlamp flickered twice and then it went dead. I clicked the button several times but the batteries must’ve finally died. Without a light source, I forced myself to slow down so I didn’t trip over an exposed root or something.

_“I think she went into the barn.” My grandfather said._

I tried to make my way towards the barn. Thorns and brambles pulled at my blue jeans. One sneaky branch even scratched at my cheek. I could’ve used my cell phone as an emergency light source, but I left it inside sitting on the charger. The damn thing could barely hold a charge for any longer than a couple of hours, and I was still too stubborn to drop a whole bunch of gold on a new one.

As I got closer to the barn, I heard Stella plaintively moo. The two goats let out near unison bleats and then I heard a horse whinny...except, I didn’t own a horse. I let myself into the barn through the attached milkhouse so I could grab the kerosene lamp I had inside. I found the box of matches, lit the lamp, and carefully brought it into the barn with me. Stella swished her tail and her moos became more urgent when she saw me. Scout was safely stashed behind her mom. The bovine’s physical heft blocked almost all of her baby. I only knew she was back there because I knew Stella didn’t have eight legs. The two goats rose up onto their hind legs and pawed at their gate -- it was their way of begging to get out.

_Morgan, are you in here?_

I jumped at the sound of my grandfather’s voice. I didn’t see any spectre or ghost, but I did feel his presence. I smelled the faint aroma of his pipe tobacco and the barn grew just a tad warmer. And then I remembered it. I remembered the moment when I had lost everything, including myself. I sat down in the middle of the barn and I put the kerosene lamp on the floor next to me. The memory came as soon as I closed my eyes.

_I saw myself, my six-year old self, crawl deeper into the hay-pile in the large barn. Several of grandpa’s cows stood lowing nervously as this human child buried herself in their food. His grey gelding, Silver Dollar, stamped his back feet and whinnied as soon as Grandpa stormed into the barn. He looked so young, at least, younger than I had ever seen him. Grandpa’s blond hair had already lightened to become almost completely white. His thick mustache still hand small tints of strawberry blond coloring amid the swath of deep steel grey. He carried a slingshot tucked into the waistband of his pants. He wore a grey loose-fitting shirt that was unbuttoned at the top to reveal silver wisps of hair and grey suspenders._

_“Is she in there Dad?” Mom called from outside._

_Grandpa looked around the barn. He checked under an overturned water trough and climbed the ladder and looked through the tightly packed hay bales that were stacked up three-high._

_“No, I don’t see her.” he yelled out. “Where’s Henry?”_

_“Marlon’s got him. He’s keeping him in the mines until we can find Morgan and try to explain ...” her voice faltered. “Yoba. What am I going to do, Dad? Morgan saw him transform. She watched her father turn into a beast and then he abducted her! It’s a miracle we got either one of them back from that witch.”_

_Grandpa nodded and he made a sign in the air in reverence to The Vessel._

_“Yoba, it is a province that we got both of them back. Let’s just hold to the faith that we’ll find her soon.”_

_He climbed back down the ladder and left the barn. Minutes later he came back in with a pitchfork and wearing a different set of clothes. His grey work pants were tucked into knee-high muck boots and he wore a brown jacket over a plain long sleeve shirt. Early dawn light streamed into the barn when he came inside. The cows reacted to his presence and pressed their weight against the stalls, their heads nuzzling the empty feed bags that were about to be filled. Grandpa looked exhausted. His eyes were glassy and red-rimmed and he was moving a lot slower._

_He took his pitchfork and stuck it into the hay pile, pulled off a decent size chunk of hay, and dropped it into the horse’s food trough. That small disturbance was enough for the child-me to stir and make a small noise. Grandpa heard it and he set the pitchfork against the wall and went to the hay pile. He dug deep into the hay, let out a shock of surprise and relief, and pulled me out. Straw stuck out of my hair like a pin cushion and my face was terribly pale; my lips were blue._

_“Sweet pea?” Grandpa croaked. He held me to his chest and sobbed._

_“Diane!” he yelled._

_“Did you find her?” Came the excited and scared reply._

_Grandpa chuckled in relief, “She was hiding in the hay. Damn near buried herself to the bottom like a little rabbit. My sweet girl. Clever girl. Call the doctor Diane. She’s got hypothermia and she’s probably dehydrated. I’m gonna bring her inside and get her warm.”_

_As he carried me out, I caught a glimpse of myself. My eyes were open but they were completely vacant and life-less. My shoulders gently rose and fell which was the only indication that I was breathing at all. I looked dead. All light was gone from my eyes. It was a look that photographers captured when they took pictures of children from war torn parts of the country. I looked like I had seen hell itself._

When I opened my eyes, I found myself staring at the dying flame in the kerosene lamp. I was lying on my side; my right arm was asleep because I had been using it as a makeshift pillow. I didn’t know the time nor did I know if I had been asleep for very long. Right next to my kerosene lamp was another piece of parchment, similar to the one that I found at Grandpa’s grave during the Feast of the Winter Star. I unrolled it with clumsy, half-numb fingers and read the familiar handwriting.

_Remember my last words, sweet pea. Trials and challenges are upon you now. Evil cannot be vanquished without help. I am sorry for the part I played in trying to protect you from this evil. I’m a fallible old man and a fool. Please know that I have never stopped loving you._

My hand trembled as I held the note up to the lamp. I re-read it several times and the words still took a moment to sink in. I put the note in my jacket pocket, and then I struggled to my feet, extinguished the kerosene lamp and left it on the hook by the door, and ran back to my cabin.

I threw the door open and slammed it shut with such force that Golden bolted from her resting place on the couch and into the bedroom to hide beneath the bed. I followed her into the room, tore open my top drawer, pushed aside some underwear and socks and found the other note … the previous note that my grandfather had left for me when I went to his grave.

It was real. They were both real. I kinda thought that the first one was a fluke. Maybe I was hallucinating or maybe someone was playing a terrible trick on me, but a line from the first note struck me in my gut: _Trials and challenges await you, sweet pea. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. The town will come through just as they did for me._

My ringing cell phone startled me out of my thoughts. The LED screen on the front of my phone read 1:40am and the caller ID beneath it said “Elliott.” I also had four unopened text messages.

Oh shit.

“Hello?”

“Morgan!? Oh thank Yoba.” Elliott’s voice was tight with stress and I heard him audibly exhale a breath when I answered the phone. “I was so worried, love.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I replied. “It’s been a busy day and I haven’t had my phone on me. I just got home.”

“You just got home?” Elliott echoed. “Are you okay? Did you experience another memory again? Is that why you were out so late?”

“Sort of.” I replied. “It’s kind of complicated and I’m still processing through it. I’m fine though. I’m back home. I’m safe and sound. I’m sorry that I worried you.”

Elliott chuckled. The sound was throaty and a little wet. I suspected that his chuckle was trying to mask a sob. “No, love. I’m sorry that I’m so paranoid. Sometimes my anxiety brain kicks in and just assumes the worst. I’m just glad to hear from you. Can you call me tomorrow afternoon so we can talk a little longer? We both should get to bed.”

I yawned again. Sleep was already pulling me down.

“Yeah. I can do that.” I said. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied.

“Goodnight.”

I snapped my phone shut and I was asleep before I could even put it on the charger.


	11. And A Baby Makes Three (Rated T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a new addition to the Raymond household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the delay. I had to prioritize some things in my life and take care of my own mental health. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and/or review. I appreciate all of the support and the love.

And A Baby Makes Three (Rated T)

April 1st (Spring)

I woke up to my alarm and my entire body felt sore. My neck ached, my shoulders and forearms felt heavy and useless, and my core quivered in protest each time I tried to get up out of bed.

Marlon’s training had kicked up a notch in terms of intensity and frequency. Now I was meeting with him twice per day, once in the morning right after chores and once in the evening after I put the animals to bed. In the mornings, I met him at the Adventurer’s Guild and in the evenings he came to the farm.

To my credit, I was getting better at sword fighting. My balance and form had improved, but I was still painfully slow when compared to the old man, and the bruises along my forearms and shins showed that I still had a lot to learn. Last night’s training was our first all-out sparring match, and I went all out. I suppose that was the problem.

“You exhaust yourself too quickly.” Marlon told me as he handed me the wooden training sword that he had knocked out of my hand with a quick parry. “Don’t do the work for your opponent. Make them come to you. If you chase them all willy nilly you’ve already lost the fight.”

“It would be easier if my opponent wasn’t a Yoba damned mountain goat!” I growled.

I had never seen a man Marlon’s age bound, leap, and run quite like him. There was a modest training field off near the broken quarry bridge, but the field was full of rocks and stumps. I often spent more time watching my feet to make sure that I didn’t trip over a root or roll my ankle than I did swinging my sword. Marlon seemed to have preternatural senses. He never looked down. He never needed to. It was like he knew exactly where everything was without needing to actually see it. That bastard.

The pale morning dawn turned the outside landscape a bleak grey. The weather report said that today was supposed to be a sunny day which I hoped would firm up the soft and muddy ground from the Spring thaw and the recent rains.

Golden jumped up onto the bed and walked across my chest.

She meowed her good-morning greeting at me and I absent-mindedly stroked her back. Her rear end lifted up a little and she made a slightly irritated sound. I had never actually owned a cat before, so I wasn’t quite sure if she was pleased or mad -- in a cat’s mind, I suppose that’s a relatively fine line to walk.

“You should do the chores for me.” I told her. “You gotta earn your keep. You don’t even pay rent or anything.”

Golden’s meow took on the tone of a plaintive wail. She was hungry and impatient. I groaned as I climbed out of bed and slid my feet into my slippers.

I walked through the cabin like a drunken sailor. I was exhausted. My late night excursion at Grandpa’s tomb happened several days ago, but my body was still trying to catch up on lost sleep from that night. I’m an early bird. I love mornings. So staying up until nearly two in the morning wasn’t the best choice in the long run.

I had forced myself to go to bed at a reasonable time in the days that followed that incident, but it was no use. The dreams were back. Strangely, my dreams didn’t seem like long lost memories. Most of the time, I dreamed of Elliott.

I mean, I knew that I missed him. Until he left, I never realized just how much of my daily routine involved him being here. He and I had developed a routine that suited us both. I’d wake up before him and take care of the morning farm chores. He’d wake up an hour, maybe an hour and a half, after me and get started on breakfast. We’d eat breakfast together and then go our separate ways. I’d go fishing, crabbing, or foraging before my afternoon practice with Marlon and Elliott would swing by Leah’s before he went off to the library to write. Our routine was solid. Despite only living together for a half a year, Elliott and I were like a well-oiled machine.

Still missing him wasn’t the only issue. I missed everything about Elliott. Yes, I missed our routine, but I also missed the small things that I had grown accustomed to in our relationship. I missed the way he’d kiss me on my forehead as we parted ways for the day. I missed that when he made tea or coffee, he always made me a cup as well. Hell, I even missed the way his brow creased when he thought hard about something while he was writing.

But if I were being honest with myself, I’d say that the thing I missed the most (or close to it) was the sex.

Maybe that’s shallow of me, but before I met Elliott my libido had dropped so hard that it shattered through the floor. I had resigned myself to the fact that I was just one of those women who didn’t get to have a satisfying sex life with their partner. I mean, I’m no stranger to self-pleasure, but that act is more like scratching an itch. But now … now I enjoyed sex because Elliott and I had a strong emotional connection as well as physical chemistry.

Elliott made me feel desirable. I’ll never forget our first night together and the way he looked at me. I wasn’t some object to him or some notch on the bedpost. He looked at me in the same way that every girl dreams of being looked at by a lover: with an expression that says _I see you and you are perfect just the way you are._

I trusted him. I relied on him and he followed through for me. Hell, just having that security in a relationship freed my mind up for other thoughts, and those thoughts needed to take a cold shower.

“Meeooow.” Golden’s drawn out yowl broke me from my thoughts and I looked down at her empty food bowl.

I sighed and I opened up the fridge to get out the can of wet cat food. As soon as she saw it, she wound around my legs and chittered excitedly. I spooned the other half of the can onto a small plate, warmed it in the microwave for fifteen seconds, and handed it to her.

The cabin was dark. The fireplace was cold and the entire place felt so lonely. Elliott was never up this early, but even then, I’d still be able to hear his soft, heavy breathing coming from the bedroom. Now I heard nothing except Golden’s gentle purring and as she chowed down on breakfast.

I looked over at my calendar and I crossed off today’s date with a red-ink pen.

April 1st.

Only 19 more days to go before Elliott came home.

I sighed and then I pushed myself off the countertop and went back to the bedroom to get dressed. Time would pass faster if I kept busy, and that’s exactly what I intended to do.

At 10 o’clock that morning, my cell phone rang just as I was finishing chores. I fished the phone hoping it was Elliott. Instead the caller ID said Chuck and the disappointment took the wind from my lungs.

“Hey Chuck.” I said.

“Morgan. Your mother went into labor this morning.”

The words rushed out of his mouth sounding like ‘yourmotherwentintolabor’ and it took me a moment to process his word jumble into English.

“My mother’s in labor?”

“YES!” his voice was frantic and then something slammed into me like a cement truck hitting a brick wall. My mother was in labor a month early. Ethan was going to be premature and my mother’s pregnancy was considered a geriatric pregnancy.

“Are you sure Chuck? What did the doctor say? Is she okay?”

Chuck’s voice rose half an octave, “Yoba, I don’t know Morgan! She went to her doctor’s appointment yesterday and they said everything was fine. Then this morning, she said she was going into labor so I brought her in.”

“Well are you sure it’s real labor?” I asked. “She could be having Braxton Hicks contractions. She told me that she had a lot of those when she was pregnant with me.”

Chuck sighed and I heard mechanical muffled voices as a message was announced over the hospital PA. I heard a series of doors close and then Chuck’s voice took on an echo. He must’ve moved to a stairwell to talk.

“I don’t know anything about this stuff Morgan. I tried to read those pregnancy books with your mother but I don’t have the mind for this medical stuff. All I know is that the doctors are saying stuff to me and they got your mom hooked up to oxygen right now. They’re monitoring her vitals, but the doctor plans for her to deliver the baby today. I think they said something about the baby being oxygen deprived or in the breech position. Your mother says that she’s fine, but -- I mean, you know how she gets Morgan.”

Chuck wasn’t a dumb man, but he was a man. A man who was expecting his first child two decades later than usual. I imagine that he was just trying to not run around the hospital in a panic while my mother was in labor. And my mother in her utilitarian stoicism would try to grin and bear all of this alone. If something was wrong, I’m sure my mother would wait until the last minute to tell him.

Yoba...

I held the phone against my chest as I ran to the cabin. I’d have to see if Marnie or Shane could come over and put them back in the barn at the end of the night, and I’d have to --

\-- “Morgan, you there?”

“Yeah, sorry.” I breathed heavily into the phone. I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulders. “Which hospital is she at? I’ll be there in a couple of hours. The bus to Zuzu City runs every hour. I should be able to catch the 9 o’clock one if I --”

“-- Morgan that’s not necessary. Your mom just wanted me to keep you updated on the news. You don’t have to come all the way out here.” Chuck interrupted.

“Yes it is.” I said firmly. “Hang tight. I’ll be there soon. I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

He sighed, “Fine. I’ll text you the hospital’s address and her room number. I appreciate this Morgan. Really, I do.”

“Don’t sweat it.” I replied. I was already shrugging on my coat.

Golden watched everything with intent amber eyes. She ran to the door and waited for me to open it.

“If I let you outside, you won’t be back in for a long time.” I told her. “You sure about this?”

She chittered at me.

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I opened my cabin door and slid my cell phone into my pocket. I had ten minutes before the next bus came by and the bus stop was half a mile away, so I sprang into a run and clutched my purse to my chest so it wouldn’t bounce around against my hip.

After the first two hundred meters, my lungs burned and sweat beaded at the back of my neck. I slowed down just a little cursing my winter laziness. I’d build up my endurance and physical fitness before too long, what with the farming and the new sword fighting regime, but I was paying the price now.

The silver bus idled next to the bus stop. The driver stepped out, looked around the small waiting area, and turned around to get back on.

“Hold up! I’m coming!” I yelled.

She saw me running, huffed in annoyance and stepped behind the plexiglass wall to sit in the driver's seat. I raced up the steps and tripped over the top one which made me stumble against the handrail. I hissed in pain and I was sure there would be a bruise there tomorrow.

“Mind the step.” the bus driver said.

I detected a smarmy tone in her impatient voice, but I ignored it. I dug into my purse and fished out the bus fair and slid it into the coin receptacle. The bus was almost full to capacity. Any of the available seats had someone sitting in one of the two options, so I tried to judge who looked the most friendly and then I saw someone familiar.

“Stephen?”

The dark-haired boy -- well actually, young man -- looked up at me in surprise. His cheeks turned pink as I walked towards him. I held onto the guard rails as the bus accelerated which made my progress towards him choppy and awkward.

“Uh … hey?!” He drawled out the “hey” in a tone that said, _I would much rather stick something in my eye than talk to you._

“Woah?! What are the chances? May I sit with you? Everywhere else is full.”

He shrugged and took his bag off the second seat and put it on his lap. I noticed that the backpack was full to bursting and it probably weighed fifteen or twenty pounds.

“You running away or something?” I teased.

“No.” he said. “I’m coming back from seeing my dad. I’m picking up the train in Zuzu City to go back to Alexandria tonight.”

“Oh.” I tried to hide my surprise but I failed miserably.

Stephen stared at the seat in front of him. “Elliott probably told you about my father.”

I injected faux neutrality into my voice, “Well kinda. He just told me that he left when you were small. It’s none of my business but I’m surprised that you made the trip all the way out here to see him. Do you do this often?”

He shook his head, “This was my first time. And it will be my last time.”

The sorrow in the young man’s voice punched me in the gut. I knew that this was none of my business, but I just felt the need to say something to him or to try and cheer him up.

“I’m sorry. My dad recently came back into my life too. It’s hard.”

Stephen nodded. “I never believed that he didn’t want me. My mom and I would get into arguments about it all the time. So finally, she relented and let me go to see him once I turned 18, which was at the end of February, and here we are.”

He looked out the window. The sun revealed the barest hints of the Michaels’ family red in his dark hair. The sunlight made his hair look more auburn than dark brown. The freckles that lined his eyes were tear-streaked and I noticed that he kept picking at his fingernails or his lips. An anxious tick perhaps?

“I take it that it didn’t go well?”

Stephen shook his head and said nothing else.

I sighed, “I’m sorry.”

Yoba, I felt incredibly useless right now.

Stephen sniffed and then he coughed into the crook of his elbow. The kid looked exhausted and run down. Perhaps it takes another exhausted person to see the exhaustion in others. I fiddled with the faux leather tassel that hung from my purse. There were only two pieces left; I had worried all of the other fringes off when dealing with my own anxiety.

I had to say something more to Stephen. Even if it sounded stupid or corny, I had to try. I couldn’t let him just stew in misery.

I cleared my throat, “My dad came into my life right outta the blue a few weeks ago. I don’t remember him and my Mom and Grandpa never talked about him, but I always felt abandoned. I don’t think I’ll ever get over that feeling, but I also think that’s okay. I’m really shitty at giving advice, and I’m sure it doesn’t mean much coming from a your Uncle’s girlfriend but --”

“Oh Yoba, don’t call Elliott my Uncle.” Stephen cringed and fake gagged. “He’s like my older brother. He was still making mud pies in Grandma’s front yard when I was a toddler.”

I chuckled, “Alright, I get what you’re saying. Just know that you’re not alone. It sounds like your dad sucks. He’s making a huge mistake if he doesn’t want to have a relationship with an intelligent and well-spoken man like you.”

Stephen’s expression was hard to read. Was he mad at my unsolicited advice? Was he upset? Annoyed? After a minute, he simply nodded his head and looked out the window.

“Thanks Morgan.” he replied.

We sat in silence for the rest of the ride. I looked out the bus’s front window and watched as farmland and thick forests dispersed as highway and concrete took over. Zuzu City loomed on the horizon and I already felt myself missing home. As we got closer to the city, my phone dinged several times with messages that finally reached me now that I had full cell service again.

The first one was from Chuck with the address: _216 S. Grover Street. And then the note: The maternity wing is on the third floor in the south complex._

The next one was from Elliott: _Good morning, love. How are you doing today?_

The third was from an unknown number: _Hey Morgan. It’s Henry. Can you come by the Adventurer's Guild today?_

The third message was the most suspicious and it sent my stomach back into knots. Why would my father want me to meet him at the Adventurer's Guild? Did Marlon know about this? Where was Henry living if it wasn’t in Pelican Town?

I responded to Henry’s text first.

_I am out of town. I don’t know if I’ll be back tonight._

Then I replied to Elliott.

_Good morning. My mom went into labor this morning. I’m on my way to Zuzu City to see her. My cell coverage is spotty in large buildings and my battery is already at 50%, so I’ll call you once I get a chance. Love you._

I wrote down the hospital’s address and then I powered my cell phone off. Stephen looked down at my phone with a scandalized expression that only teenagers could have when seeing a cell phone that didn’t have a touch screen or access to any sort of internet functionality. I’d like to see their fancy smartphones survive being dropped in the water (twice). This was the one utilitarian habit that I got from my mom.

The bus slowed down and into the pickup lane. Taxi cabs zipped past us and car horns, blaring sirens, and other muffled city noises met my ears and set my anxiety on high again.

“Here’s my stop.” I said. “Take care Stephen.”

He nodded. “Thanks Morgan. Tell Elliott that I say hi. I don’t get to spend a lot of time at my grandparents’ house now that Mom’s got me taking college prep classes.”

“Maybe this summer you can come back to Zuzu City and have a guys’ day with Elliott. I think he’d like that.”

Stephen nodded, “I’d like that too. And I’m going to college in Zuzu City, so I’ll be close once Fall rolls around.”

The bus hydraulics whooshed and the front end lowered. A handful of passengers made their way to the front and I’d need to follow them. But what Stephen said struck me. He’s going to Zuzu City for college? Not Alexandria State? I thought he had a full ride scholarship or something lined up … or maybe I had misheard what Eva had said. Nevertheless, I was glad that Stephen was making his way in the world. Just like Elliott, Stephen was carving out a place that was uniquely his own. Not his mom’s or his grandfathers. He was blazing his own path and following in new traditions.

Good for him.

* * *

The Zuzu Regional Medical Center spanned four blocks on the north side of the city. I raced across the skywalk that crossed over traffic feeling a mixture of gnawing anxiety and uneasy guilt. Did I somehow cause this? Was my mom going into labor early because of me? I tried to not think about that. I tried to not think about anything. The more I thought about whether my past memories would screw stuff up probably made it more likely for my past memories to make an unwanted appearance.

No. I had to focus.

When I took a left towards the maternity portion of the building, the stark hospital decor subtly changed to soft pinks, lilacs, and blues. I heard wailing babies amid the beeps and boops of hospital equipment. I wondered if one of those wailing babies was my brother.

Just then, I spotted Chuck as he came out of a room. He looked pale and a little ill. His eyes were glimmering and his round jowls quivered a little as he ground down on the backs of his teeth.

“Chuck!” I called out.

“Oh thank Yoba!” He embraced me in a full bear hug (which was shocking as we had never gone past the casual side hug stage in our relationship). He released me and ran his fingers through his thin hair.

“How is she?” I asked.

Chuck’s expression fell. “She -- uh -- well they took her in for a C-section.”

“And you didn’t go with her?!”

“They wouldn’t let me! They don’t let fathers go in if the doctor thinks the mother and child are in danger.”

My heart jumped up into my throat. The mother and child are in danger?

“How long have they been gone?”

“An hour, maybe? I need to be useful so I was going to fill up your mom’s drinking cup, but I also don’t want to miss a doctor if they come back with more information, and I just don’t know how to be helpful here!”

Just then, a nurse came by the room and noticed Chuck.

“Oh here you are!” he replied. “Your wife just went in for the C-Section. The doctor did a transvaginal ultrasound and the baby’s heart rate is a little fast. That will sometimes happen if a baby is breech or if the umbilical cord is wrapped around them. We’d like to get you into a gown so you can be with your wife through the procedure. If you’ll just follow --”

Chuck went to take a step but he swayed and his knees buckled. He sank to the floor just as the nurse and another orderly came by to catch him before he fell completely onto his face. I backed away to give them room to work. Chuck’s face was green and his face was covered in a pale sheen of sweat. The nurses helped him into a chair and had him place his head between his legs and take in some deep breaths.

“Um … sir? Can I go into the room instead? That’s my mom and she should have someone there with her if Chuck isn’t up to it.”

“No I’m fine … I’ll just ...”

Chuck moved to stand up but his knees buckled and he collapsed out of the chair. Two orderlies rushed to his side and helped him back into the chair while another one flagged down a nurse.

“Ma’am, if you want to go into the OR to be with your mom then you’ll need to come with me so we can get you dressed.” The nurse said.

Chuck’s face was turning a little green and sweat beaded at his temples while a nurse took his blood pressure.

“Just go.” He waved me away. “Be with your mom. Send her my love, okay? I'll be there as soon as I can.”

I nodded mutely and then I followed the nurse down a hallway and into a storage room.

He issued the instructions as to how I needed to dress myself in a clipped and no-nonsense tone, so followed his instructions to the letter. I stepped into hospital scrubs and booties. Then I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and let the nurse put a hospital cap over my head and a face mask over my nose and mouth. The only bit of exposed skin was my eyes.

The nurse motioned for me to enter through the double doors. The operating theater was surprisingly intimate and the four other people that were in there besides my mom made the space feel even more cramped.

“Ms. Raymond, your daughter is here.”

My heart pounded in my chest and my throat went dry. What would I say to her? She didn’t want me here. She wanted Chuck. I wasn’t Chuck -- I was …

My mom’s hand reached out and I took it. Her hands were clammy and she had tears streaming down her face.

“Oh Morgan…” She sighed in relief. “Thank Yoba. I told Chuck not to bother you because I knew you’d be busy with the farm. But I’m so glad that he didn’t listen to me.”

The surgeon rolled over a small privacy curtain and draped it over my Mom’s bare stomach. Her eyes were glassy from the medication they gave her. I took her hand into my own and she squeezed it tightly.

“I love you, daughter.”

Hot tears pricked my eyes but I bit the inside of my cheek to keep them from spilling.

“Love you too.” I murmured.

“Alright Diane. You are prepped and the local anesthesia is doing its job. We’re going to go in and get the little guy. I’ll keep on talking to you through the entire process, okay?”

My mother nodded. I nodded too, although I don’t know why. The doctor ducked back behind the blue screen and issued some instructions to the two other nurses who were standing by.

“We’re going to make the incision now. You may feel a slight pressure but you won’t feel any pain.”

“Will you be Ethan’s godmother?” My mom asked me.

The doctor’s commentary fell into the background as my brain fixated on what my mother just asked me. Did mom think she was going to die? She did go into labor early, so maybe something happened which sent her into labor. My thoughts slid into a panic spiral until a sharp infant’s wailing drew me back to myself.

“Yes, of course I will.” I answered.

Ethan’s shrill cry was all I could focus on. I felt his pain and anger at how unfair it was to be literally pulled out of your safe, warm home and thrust into the cold, terrifying world. My own maternal side wanted to take him from the doctors and just hold him until he calmed down, but I knew that his crying was good. Crying meant he was breathing and that meant that he was alive.

… My brother was alive!

The doctors had my brother all of two minutes before they handed him off to Mom. His skin was still streaked with blood and it was slightly purple. He laid face down on Mom’s chest. His little fists were clenched tight at first and then his hands relaxed as he flailed his arms around.

Mom held him to her chest and just stroked his back and cried silent tears. Tears flowed from my eyes too and I reached down to gently brush his cheek with my thumb.

“Welcome to the world, Ethan.” I murmured.

After a few moments, a doctor escorted Chuck into the room. He was clad in hospital attire and still looking a bit sick, but when he saw his son lying on Mom’s chest, his tears misted up and he went over to Mom’s side and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m so sorry hon.” He said. “I just -- I’m sorry I couldn’t be here.”

Diane shook her head and she squeezed his hand. “I tried to warn you that this might happen.” she teased.

Chuck shook his head and his shoulders heaved with dry sobs as he leaned over mom and baby both, beaming at his family. I suddenly felt like a voyeur and I retreated from the operating room so they could all bond with Ethan. The nurses helped me out of the scrubs and then I washed my hands. I took my cell phone out of my pocket, turned it on, and walked over to the skywalk that connected the pediatric ward with the rest of the hospital.

Golden daylight streamed into the hallway courtesy of the floor to ceiling windows. The cars and buses below slid past like fish in a stream. The skywalk had wooden handrails that followed the entire length of the walkway, and I felt exhausted. I leaned up against the railing. The sun warmed my back and neck. If I wouldn’t have drawn attention to myself, I would’ve loved to bask out in the sun like Golden did in the summer.

A series of chimes and tones came from my cell phone once it finished powering up. Five missed text messages, two voicemails, and seven missed calls. I looked at the text messages first.

The first three text messages were actually one single block of text that my crappy phone broke up into three different sections.

Sunday, April 1st. 10:10am [Unlisted Number] 1 of 3  
 _Call the Adventure Guild as soon as you get back to town. Please, Morgan. I don’t know how much time I have left and there are things that I need to tell you_

Sunday, April 1st. 10:10am [Unlisted Number] 2 of 3  
 _things that might change everything. Dad says that he’s teaching you to fight with a sword. That is good! Keep training with him. I will only be in town for_

Sunday, April 1st. 10:10am [Unlisted Number] 3 of 3  
 _a couple of days. I know you might be scared to see me after what happened last time. Please don’t be scared. I have found a place where the Swamp Witch’s magic can’t touch me._

I stared at the three messages and I didn’t reply back. I didn’t know what to say. And the messages just made me remember that I still had a heap of troubles coming to get me. I had the Swamp Witch to worry about, and the Junimos in the Community Center, and my farm, and now the curse. I was up to my eyes in trouble and I didn’t want to deal with any more of it. But also, a not-so-insignificant part of me wanted to sit down and talk with my father. If he did, in fact, know of a place where he could remain human, then I had to at least take him up on his offer.

The other two text messages were from Elliott and they made me yearn for him even more.

Sunday, April 1st. 10:24am [Elliott] 1 of 2  
 _Darling! What exciting news! Please give me a call when you get a chance (but take care of yourself as well). I can hold off for a day or two from hearing your melodic_

Sunday, April 1st. 10:26am [Elliott] 1 of 2  
 _voice if I must. Please take care of yourself, love. My workshop is going according to schedule and I should be home on the 20th. I love you._

I dialed Elliott’s number and leaned against the handrails. My stomach growled. I needed to hunt down a cafe or something before I caught the bus back home.

“Morgan?” Hearing Elliott’s voice again pulled at my heart.

“Hey.” I said. “I got your messages. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Only a little.” he replied. “You caught me on a break. Class resumes in about fifteen minutes. So I hear that congratulations are in order, big sister.”

I chuckled and that’s when fat tears unexpectedly fell from my eyes

“Darling, what’s wrong?!”

“N-nothing.” I said shakily. “I -- I just -- he’s just so small. Yoba. Chuck wasn’t feeling well when he heard about Mom getting a c-section so I went in there instead. And when the doctors lifted him over the barrier … I just … I think I lost it a little. I mean, I wasn’t like this when Stella had Scout, but this seems different somehow. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being ridiculous.”

I’m sure most men would privately dismiss my unexpected display of emotion as me just being an “emotional woman” but Elliott didn’t. He knew exactly what to say.

“Every birth is a miracle.” Elliott replied. “Your feelings are perfectly natural. You just met your brother. You will get to watch him grow up, and just think of the unique relationship that you and him will share. And when he’s old enough, you’ll be able to tell him the story of his birth and how you were right by your mother’s side the entire time. And not to fault Chuck, but witnessing childbirth was often a right only allowed to the women in a village. I don’t adhere to a certain theology, but there’s something powerful about you being there in support of your mom. I’m sure she appreciated it.”

My heart swelled. He was right. I had witnessed something magical -- okay … a little gross but magical nonetheless.

“How are you so smart?” I asked him.

Elliott chuckled, “You can blame that cultural factoid on my father. He’s had me transcribing his research and he had an entire twenty pages of notes discussing various coming-of-age rituals in ancient cultures. Childbirth was just one among many that I read about.”

“I don’t know many men who voluntarily read about childbirth without getting grossed out.”

“There’s a difference in being affected by the viscera of the experience and in being disgusted by a woman’s natural process. Menstruation, childbirth … those sorts of things don’t phase me. I decided long ago that in order to be a good partner, I needed to consider the things that women go through in their lives. I will never know what it is like to experience those things, but I want to do my best to be empathetic and supportive.”

I sighed and I lowered my voice a little. “Is it weird if I say that was one of the hottest things you’ve said to me.”

Elliott’s laugh was a little tight and his own voice dipped to a whisper, “Yoba … love. I think these next 19 days are going to be the longest days of my life.”

“I miss you.” I murmured.

“And I miss you.”

I heard some indistinct chattering on Elliott’s end and he sighed, “Looks like I have to go. Will you call me tonight? I would like to read something to you and get your thoughts on it. We are having a showcase of our work on April 17th and I think I finally have a piece worthy of bringing to the public.”

“Of course.” I said. “I’ll call you after dinner tonight. Maybe around seven or so?”

“Seven works perfectly.” he replied. “Oh -- I must go. I love you Morgan.”

“I love you too.” I replied.

My heart felt like it was going to burst when I ended the call. I had a stupid love-struck grin plastered to my face while I ordered three sandwiches from the little cafe in the main hospital and brought them back to mom’s hospital room.

Mom nibbled on a bit of bread from the sandwich and then she dozed off. Chuck and I ate in companionable silence and then I held Ethan, who was now clean and wrapped up in swaddling cloth. Chuck passed out on the uncomfortable plastic loveseat next to Mom’s bed and I sat there looking at my baby brother.

His sterling blue eyes met mine and Yoba help me…

I fell in love.


End file.
